


Pie and Sex Toys for the Hockey Player's Soul

by literaryspacedetective



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Job Failures, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sex, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, GradStudent!Bitty, Hand Jobs, Healthy Communication, M/M, Mildly OOC, NHLPlayer!Jack, PSA About How Awkward Sex and Relationships Can Be, Sex Toys, Shitty Should Be a Sex Ed Teacher, camboy!bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryspacedetective/pseuds/literaryspacedetective
Summary: Jack picked up a soft bulb shaped item and turned it around in his hands. “Euh, why did they send me one of those baby nose cleaner things?”Eric didn’t respond and just stared, because this awkward man was too much. Maybe Jack wasn’t so much just awkward as awkward and oblivious.“Hun, uh, that’s called an enema,” Eric explained delicately. Seeing the confused expression on Jack’s face, he added, “You don’t know what half of this stuff is, do you?”“Euh, no.”“I could show you if you want. Shit, not like show you show you, but like, tell you what it’s for. That was totally not a proposition. I’m sorry, you’re probably horribly uncomfortable, I should just go.”He was almost within reach of the handle when Jack called out, “Wait!”Jack Zimmermann’s life is turned upside down when his crush, the cute blonde named Eric from down the hall, shows up at his door with a misaddressed package. Its contents? A box of sex accessories from a well-meaning friend. Eric was just supposed to be his friend with benefits to show him how to use his new loot. Jack never meant for their fun and awkward friendship to lead to falling in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to pinkrhinoceros for introducing me to the CheckPlease! fandom and helping outline this fic in the middle of voice class. I appreciate our cycle of negative influences. 
> 
> Also huge thank you to my beta [weeabooparse ](https://weeabooparse.tumblr.com) for your content knowledge and not judging me over my inability to stick to a verb tense.
> 
> It has also been a pleasure to work with [4rekid ](http://4rekid.tumblr.com) who made the AMAZING art that accompanies this fic. Check out 4rekid's art blog[ here](https://4redraws.tumblr.com).
> 
> Come hang out with me on [ tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/literaryspacedetective).

     Jack entered his apartment and dropped his game bag against the wall by the door with a loud sigh, relieved to be home. The Falconer’s had just beat the Sharks in overtime 4-3 to clinch their position in the playoffs with Jack providing the winning penalty stroke. Leaving the ice after such an important win with such an intense finish always keyed Jack up. Today was no exception.

     Following his typical post-game routine, Jack pulled a protein shake out of the fridge and drank it while cooking pasta and red sauce with sausage. Bulking up with carbs and protein would be important in the next few days while getting ready for playoffs. Cooking wasn’t as enjoyable after a loss but it offered a productive outlet for his energy. Pasta was a simple dish to make, and soon Jack found himself sitting on the couch in front of an old Netflix documentary about World War II.

     The documentary came to a close and Jack moved his dishes into the sink, but the win was still racing through his system like electricity. Jack didn’t think he could go to sleep now if he tried. He could text Tater to ask which bar his teammates were currently inhabiting, but being the lone sober person in such a rambunctious, drunk crowd wasn’t appealing. He could go for a run, but even Jack wasn’t stupid enough to go running through Providence alone at night…let alone sit through the reaming he’d get from his coaches for overdoing his conditioning.

     At times like this Jack wished he had someone to come home to like most of his teammates. Someone who sent him texts that would get him chirped in the locker room. Someone who knew him well enough to enjoy quiet nights at home or be a safe haven in a crowd. Someone with whom he could…enjoy a more intimate kind of workout.

     Jack had had this discussion with his old Samwell Hockey gang several times since joining the NHL. After coming out when Shitty found him in a panic attack after Kent Parson visited during Epikegster his junior year, his Hausmates were very supportive of his bisexuality. Ransom and Holster offered to setup him up with dudes for Winter Screw (“bro we’ve totally been looking at the wrong dating pool for you”) but Jack declined. It was a comfort to know he was out to his friends, who supported him unconditionally, but he wasn’t ready to date men yet publicly. He wasn’t nearly as attracted to women as men, but he liked Camilla and Samantha enough when they dated, and Jack’s sexuality was left as a Haus secret. At the time, he couldn’t handle the anxiety at the thought of being forcibly outed.

     Honestly, that was still true now. Jack was certainly less anxious about the idea of coming out publicly after a Stanley Cup win and Calder award his rookie year because he had proven again and again he could play good hockey. Great hockey, even. But coming out would be a media circus, returning to life under a microscope. After three seasons with no scandals, the media mostly left Jack alone and he enjoyed the privacy.

     Shitty tried to convince him to setup a Grindr account with his abs as a profile picture (“brah, I would fuck your abs if I was even a little bit flexible”) but that would eventually lead to someone finding out his identity and he couldn’t trust a stranger to keep that kind of secret. Especially since he hadn’t slept with a man since Parse, (half of which he was high on anxiety medication for and didn’t remember,) so maybe he was really bad at it? Jack was 28 years old, people probably expected him to be skilled between the sheets, especially given his retired party boy reputation. He really didn’t want to see the headlines “Jack Zimmermann Gay and Blows at Sex”.

     Crisse, thinking about sex and its regular lack thereof in his life was making Jack hard. He could go to the bed or shower and take care of his building erection himself, but that seemed so…anticlimactic given his attitude tonight. Or…

     Or he could visit his old favorite porn site. After Jack had come out to the Samwell hockey team and listened to many of Shitty’s sex positivity rants, he finally felt more personal acceptance of his sexuality and watching gay porn. It was not something he had the time for often, but Jack occasionally indulged. The obviously doctored, rough sex was not a turn on for Jack, but watching the intimacy of a cam boy work himself had definitely been appealing.

     Before he could persuade himself otherwise, Jack stripped down to his boxers and brought his laptop to bed. The website had been revamped since Jack last visited in college, and it took him awhile to find the right tab. Thursday nights must not be high traffic hours because there was only one active camera. Jack entered his credit card information and joined the stream.

     In the view that popped up, Jack could see a swivel chair in just front of a small bed but no actor. The chat bar on the side showed at least a dozen active users, so Jack figured the actor was coming back. A biography on the top left introduced the actor: “Hey y’all, it’s Cherry Pie! Call me Cherry :) Welcome to my channel. My two rules are that I will not show my face or give other identifying info to protect my identity and please keep any derogatory language out of the chat. You WILL be removed. Also apologies in advance about my doggo, I do my best to keep her behind the gate!”

     From off screen, Jack could hear the thud of something on the floor, the pounding of paws on hardwood floor interspersed with repeated clunks, and the closing of a latch. Suddenly someone sat down in the chair. The man was only visible from the neck down to his knees, but Jack had a generous view of his tank top and red shorts. Very short red shorts.

     “Sorry about that y’all,” came a deep Southern accent. “Needed to bribe the doggo with a bone to get out of the recording area.”

     New messages suddenly started flooding into the chat.

     shakesbeer: omg was hoping for a dog sighting tonight!

     Likebigbutts2: no come back, we want to meet puppo!

     Kissthechef43: so cute, can know the dog’s name?

     The voice chuckled. “Y’all love her more than me, I swear! Can’t tell you her name or you’d steal it, you heathens!”

     Kissthechef43: fine, fine. No dog, but how about no shirt?

     “You’re always so thirsty chef, I swear. But yes, I can lose the shirt.”

     Teasingly, Cherry ran his fingers over his abdomen and pulled the shirt up inch by inch. Jack was surprised. Cherry’s figure was cut and svelte with abs just visible under slightly freckled skin. By the time the tank top was all the way off, Jack was hard at the thought of running his fingers over the muscles. Cherry was compact, but wiry, and he obviously worked out.

     Before long, the more active chats users encouraged Cherry out of his shorts too. He pulled them down torturously slow, to reveal a half hard dick under silky black boxers. Cherry palmed the head of his erection and reached just off screen to pick up a container of lube. The boxers finally came off too, and Jack finally saw Cherry fully nude. His legs were just as toned as the rest of him with lines of muscle that ran up to his groin. Cherry’s cock was a respectable length for his size but his girth was even more impressive. Now slicked with lube, one of Cherry’s small hands could barely wrap itself around his cock as it slid up and down in a lazy motion. His pubes were blonde and Jack wondered if his real hair was light too. Cherry was a manscaper, whether in consideration for a real life partner or his viewers, Jack didn’t know. As Cherry’s legs spread in the chair to give a better angle, Jack could see stretch marks along the insides of his thigh. This was always Jack’s favorite part of a home-based camera channel – the stars were obviously real people who were definitely acting but weren’t hiding the natural parts of their body.

     After a few lazy strokes, Cherry was hard and with the high resolution Jack could see some pre-cum at the tip. Cherry used his thumb to rub over the head before adding more lube to his hands and start opening himself up. First one finger, then two before working himself up to three. At this, the regular chat members got into a fight. Apparently Cherry regularly let his users decide what he uses in anal penetration.

     “Omg, y’all, calm down,” Cherry drawled. “We got the usual options tonight – the bullet vibe, bigger vibe, or beads. Shakesbeer, you won last week it’s time for someone else to pick.”

     Likebigbutts2 won and chose the big vibe. Jack’s heart beat hitched as he saw Cherry maneuver off the chair and kneel on the bed in the background so his ass his was on display. Cherry slicked the vibe with lube and slowly used his hand to glide it into his ass. Jack heard a dull moan as Cherry adjusted to the size. Jack took the time Cherry was paused to pull off his own boxers, slick lube on his hand, and start running his hand up and down his cock.

     When Cherry’s ass finally accepted the entire vibe, he got up on his knees to face the camera. Cherry sat on his ankles, held the end of the vibe in his hand, turned it on low, and started grinding up on and down on the smooth plastic. After establishing a rhythm, Cherry reached with his other hand to grab his cock and pull it with increasingly aggressive strokes.

     The sounds flooding Jack’s room were a combination of Cherry’s moans and his own grunting. Jack came first, breathing deep and he watched Cherry continue to ride the vibrator for an impressive amount of time. Finally, Jack saw Cherry’s body spasm and cum spurted up his chest.

     After extricating himself from the bed and the vibrator, Cherry returned to the chair to grab a packet of moist toilettes to wipe himself off. He signed off with a “See y’all next Thursday”, but Jack continued to lay against the pillows breathing heavy. Eventually, Jack pulled himself out of bed to clean off in the bathroom and brush his teeth. He returned to bed, bundled under the blankets, and fell asleep completely sated.

***

     Logging onto Cherry’s channel became Jack’s new weekly ritual whenever he was home on Thursday nights during playoffs. Every week the script was pretty similar. Sometimes Cherry took his clothes off in a strip tease to music (some artist named Beyoncé?) and sometimes he used different toys to get himself off. Every week was pretty similar until it wasn’t.

     That night, Cherry wore a cock ring and the audience was making bets in the chats about how long he could hold off an orgasm. Close to when Jack thought Cherry was going to succumb, there was a dog’s yelp followed by a crash and a pattering of paws. What looked like a child proof gate slid on the floor into view and a dog hobbled in front of Cherry.

     The chat went absolutely wild when they saw her. The dog, who was admittedly pretty cute as dogs go, looked vaguely familiar to Jack. He was pretty sure the dog is a greyhound, with a mish mash of brown and black stripes – brindle he thinks it’s called. The dog has nylon collar with hockey sticks on it and its front paw is sporting a bright pink cast.

     “What the …. oh oh OH!” Cherry yelled first in shock then in pleasure as his back arched. The dog’s nose was in Cherry’s lab and therefore in the line of fire for the stripes of cum that hit Cherry’s chest.

     “Oh my god honey I’m so sorry! Let’s clean you up,” came Cherry’s voice, distracted to the point he was basically ignoring his audience. Cherry carefully extracted a wipe and cleaned off the dog’s chin. He continued to pet its head and rub an arm along her flank. The dog was still shaking, but obviously calmed some.

     “Sorry, y’all,” she’s afraid of thunderstorms,” Cherry explained.

     The chat continued to coo as Cherry took off his cock ring and told the audience he was signing off to put the dog to bed for the night.

     Well, that was certainly not what Jack expected when he logged on this evening. In the commotion, he had forgotten to take care of himself. Jack jerked himself off with a few thrusts, thinking of Cherry’s moans. After a quick shower, Jack wrapped his arms around a pillow and fell asleep.

***

     Jack’s morning completely threw off his schedule the next day. Waking up for this usual run, Jack was disappointed that the rain from the storm the night before was still falling. Normally, Jack didn’t mind running in the rain, but the Falconers were now in the semi-finals for the playoffs. He needed to be extra careful to not get sick or fall on the slick sidewalks during a run.

     Jack made breakfast and sat on the couch to watch tape to prepare for their next game series against the Kings. By 8am the rain had cleared, so Jack laced up his bright yellow running shoes, locked up, and headed into the hallway. Jack was halfway to the elevator when a door in front of him opened. Out walked a short man with his dog.

     A greyhound. With a bright, pink cast wrapped in a plastic bag.

     Jack stopped and stared, hoping he would be ignored. As the man turned to lock his door, the dog pulled on its leash hard enough it broke out of the man’s grasp. The dog trotted down the hallway, the cast clunking as it went, and stopped to lean against Jack’s side. Jack’s hand automatically came down to pat its head and he saw the infamous hockey stick collar.

     “Gotham, no!” the man shouted. The voice confirmed it for Jack. Those were the soft Southern tones he heard on Thursday nights and in his daydreams. The tones that regularly gave him intense pleasure.

     The man ran up to catch his dog which left him standing in front of Jack. For the first time, Jack could see all of Cherry. Cherry was a cute blonde with big, expressive brown eyes and a buzzed haircut along the sides. He was wearing a sheepish smile and bright red bow tie.

     “Sorry about that,” Cherry said to a frozen Jack. “Hope you aren’t allergic; she’s always excited to make new friends.”

     Jack didn’t respond for several moments, no doubt blushing while alternating between staring at the floor and the face of the man he regularly watched jerk off online.

     “Euh, no problem,” Jack found himself saying.

     “Oh well that’s a different accent!” Cherry said. “Takes one to know one, I guess. I’m from Georgia myself. Good lord, I forgot to introduce myself. Mama would have my hide for being so rude. My name’s Eric. Eric Bittle.”

     “I’m Jack. From Montreal.” There was an awkward pause where it became apparent Jack wasn’t going to offer any more conversation.

     “Well, Jack from Montreal, real nice to meet ya but I gotta get going. We’re going for a walk. Gotham needs me and all that jazz,” Eric said with a wink. Jack felt like he was missing something.

     “Euh, ok.”

     “You don’t get it, do you?”

     “Get what?”

     “It’s a Batman reference. Batman lives in Gotham … Gotham needs me…no?”

     “Euh, no.”

     “Good lord, next you’re gonna tell me you’ve never heard of Beyoncé.”

     Jack was pretty sure Beyoncé was an artist but he only knew that because he listened to her music in the background while Cherry shimmied out of his shorts last week. He decided to stay silent.

     Eric continued to stare at him, mouth slack with disbelief. “You’ve never heard of Beyoncé? Are you even American?”

     “No,” Jack said. After another beat, “I’m from Canada.”

     “Chirp, chirp. Well, see you around Jack from Canada.”


	2. Chapter 2

     Jack managed to thankfully avoid Eric during the rest of playoffs and into the offseason. The Falconer’s lost the cup in Game 6 of the Finals to the Penguins, but Jack narrowly beat Parson for the Art Ross award. He would have liked another cup ring, but it was a testament to his newfound maturity and years of therapy that Jack didn’t solely blame himself for the Falconer’s loss.

     During the off season Jack’s schedule was more forgiving. He still completed his morning run religiously, but avoided wandering the halls of his apartment complex during popular hours by taking photos in the park or free skating at the rink. But every Thursday without fail, the exception being his two weeks in Montreal to visit his parents, Jack tuned into Cherry’s, or rather, Eric’s, channel.

     It started to feel uncomfortable and like an invasion of privacy. Jack knew this man and his dog, and while Eric wouldn’t put himself on the Internet if he didn’t want people to see, it still felt dishonest.

     Now instead of just admiring Cherry’s abs, he thought of Eric’s face. There was no denying that Eric was handsome, friendly, and very much Jack’s type. Jack wanted to see Eric’s face again, but that was dangerous because then Jack would want to kiss him and see his face in very non-platonic circumstances.

     Jack got his wish at the beginning of September just before pre-season started again.

     Shitty decided to visit the first weekend in September before the Falconer’s pre-season got busy. Jack and Shitty were leaving the apartment to head for lunch when a very familiar man and his dog walked out of the elevator. Gotham made a very determined beeline towards Jack.

     “Well if it isn’t Jack from Canada,” Eric said. “How ya doin’, hun? Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

     Jack froze, caught between staring at Eric’s face and his shirt, imagining the muscles he knew were underneath.

     After a moment too long, Jack replied, “Euh, good. Just….going to lunch.”

     Shitty gave him a look and then mercifully took control of the conversation.

     “The name’s Shitty,” he said, offering a hand. “I’m here visiting this Adonis. Mind if I pet your dog?”

     “Oh, of course! Thanks for asking. She loves attention. I’m Eric Bittle, by the way.”

     “Nice to meet ya. She’s a greyhound?”

     “Yeah, Gotham’s a greyhound. Rescued her after I moved up north for school. Gotham needed me.”

     “Brah, that’s a great name for a dog.”

     “Thanks,” Eric said with a smile. “It’s gender neutral. Jack over here didn’t get the joke the first time.”

     Shitty turned around to give Jack a smirk. “He didn’t, did he? Yeah, well, Jackabelle here still listens to dad rock and doesn’t know any pop culture icon from after 1985. Anyway, what brings you up north?”

     “MBA at Brown with a concentration in Food Studies. I have an undergrad degree with a culinary arts focus but figured I should learn how to run a business before starting a bakery.”

     “Brah, I can support that. We need more small businesses. Chain stores are capitalistic ventures sucking the livelihood of the people into a patriarchal heteronormative society.”

     Eric blinked. “Well, any support is always appreciated. You’ll have to stop by for a slice of pie after I get up and running.”

     At the word ‘pie’, Jack went flush. Crisse, now his body was conditioned to just hearing the word.

     Jack offered a muffled, awkward goodbye to Eric who took Gotham back to his apartment. When Eric was out of sight, Shitty struck.

     “Brah, what was that?”

     “What was what?”

     “You talking with that guy. You were more of a hockey robot than usual.”

     “Nothing. He’s just my neighbor.”

     “Nothing my ass,” Shitty said with an exasperated glare. “Come on, let’s go to lunch.”

     Jack hoped Shitty would drop it.

***

     Shitty did not, in fact, drop it and Jack found himself explaining the situation over lunch.

     “Jack, bro, you like him. And from what I saw today he’s also very into you. Ask. Him. Out.”

     “There’s a million reasons why that’s an awful idea, including he is not into me.”

     “You were too busy staring at the ground to notice him checking you out. Dude is definitely interested.”

     “We’d have to date in secret. I’m not ready to come out yet.”

     “Well for the former, that sounds like a decision for Eric to make himself, and for the latter, you’re at the top of your game and irreplaceable on the ice. If you were ready to come out, it would be a perfect time. Don’t let your fear of the unknown stop you from being happy.”

     “I don’t want to deal with the press during the season.”

     “You two live across the hall from each other, that’s not like it’s hard to hide from the tabloids. Come on, give me the real reason, I’m worried about you. I’m not gonna let it go until you do.”

     Jack could usually win a silent standoff. Maybe it was the fact that he really wanted to talk it through with someone or knew that Shitty would really never let it go, but Jack decided to tell him anyway.

     “I…I’m nervous,” he started.

     “Alright, Jack, that’s good,” Shitty said. “I’m proud of you for defining your feelings. What are you nervous about?”

     “I’m nervous because online he’s so…confident and knows what he’s doing. I just… I haven’t dated anyone in years and what if I don’t know how to be…you know…with someone that way?”

     “Oh, Jack, it’s totally normal to feel that way. If Eric is the selfless kind of person he looks to be, I doubt he’d care. Besides, would be kinda fun for him to teach you, eh?” Shitty said wiggling his eyebrows with a shit eating grin.

     “We’re officially done talking about my sex life, Shits. Case closed.”

     “Don’t you worry, brah,” Shitty said. “I’ll take care of it.”

***

     It turned out, Shitty “taking care of it” was an excuse to throw a reunion kegster. All current and former Samwell players in the greater Boston area were invited to a mandatory party the following Saturday. Jack expected Shitty to rope some of the Wellie’s into convincing him to ask Eric out, but be easily distracted by cups of tub juice.

     Not for the first time since he’d found himself in this situation, Jack was very wrong.

     Jack was one of the last to arrive at the Haus and found his old teammates eating nachos on the couch while Shitty – sans shirt and pants – set up boxes on their coffee table. He got a stream of greetings as he let himself in the door. Chowder and Dex were sitting on the horrid green couch while Nursey lounged against the arm. Jack had only briefly seen Ransom and Holster who disappeared into the kitchen to stick pizza rolls in the oven with Lardo as their supervisor. Ollie and Wicks were sitting in chairs by the TV. The doorbell rang and Jack, the closest to the door, decided to answer it.

     “Zimmboni! Very excited to be at party,” said a very excited Tater as he burst through the door to say hello to Ransom and Holster. “Shitty say I honorary Samwell member.”

     Behind Tater stood an amused Johnson, who clapped Jack on the shoulder, and said, “Let’s get this narrative rolling, shall we?”

     Shitty took the opportunity to stand on the coffee table, pull out his air horn, and request everyone’s presence in the living room.

     After everyone was sitting, Shitty opened his arms like he was holding court. Jack was pretty sure he was drunk. Or high. Probably both.

     “Welcome one and all to the greatest event of the year! I’m your host for the evening, Shitty. Tonight I’m hoping we can all do a favor for my little sister, Hilary. Hilary is raising money for new hockey equipment for underprivileged youth by working with a company called Pure Romance. I did some of my own research so I can show you the merch she’s got, and we’re going to have a very open-minded party in this positive safe space because…..THIS IS A SEX TOY PARTY!”

     There were some “whoop!”s from the crowd and scattered laughter. Jack gave Shitty a silent glare because he was pretty sure he wanted to kill Shits.

     “Now, now,” Shitty started. “Usually these parties are for women and focus so much on heteronormativity. But there’s no reason men – and the lady – can’t learn something new in a sex positive space to share with a partner of any gender! So let’s start off by setting the mood right. Please pick up your appropriately themed name tag and write down something sexual you have done or are interested in. Throw your responses in the hat and when everyone’s done pull one out to introduce yourself.”

     After all the responses were collected, Shitty dug around in the hat, claiming he needed to find a name that spoke to him, and saved it for last. He shouted, “Ransom, you’re up!”

     “Uhh, I’m Rim Me Ransom,” he said while Holster nudged his shoulder suggestively. “And I went down on a girl as she was starting her period.”

     “Shit, that’s nasty!” Ollie shouted. “Condolences to whoever experienced that, man.”

     “Hey, the female body in all forms is beautiful!” Shitty interjected. “Pure Romance Bylaw Number 1: No kink shaming even if it’s not your kink. Holster, you’re next.”

     “I’m Heat It Up Holster and I like wearing panties to bed.”

     “I’m All the Way Ollie and in college I made a sex tape.”

     “I’m Wet Wicks and my mom walked in on me losing my virginity in high school.”

     “I’m Just the Tip Johnson and I got my first blowjob in a movie theater.”

     “I’m Lick Lick Lardo and I had sex in the middle of a lake.”

     “Get it Shits!” Holster and Ransom chirped.

     “That wasn’t me you dopes!” Lardo commented. “But really, Shitty, that is a good idea.

     “Uhh, I Tasty Tater. I want be tied up.”

     “I’m….shit do I really gotta say this?” Dex asked.

     “This is a sex positive environment,” Shitty said. “Your participation is required for the brethren to feel optimal comfort and bro bonding.”

     “Ugh, fine. I’m Diddling Dex. And…,” Dex’s voice faded off and became squeaky, “the hottest thing I’ve ever done is a 69.”

     Jack thought Dex’s comment wouldn’t have been as amusing had he said it with a straight face, but Ollie and Wicks snorted into their beers and Nursey exclaimed, “Dude you’ve got no chill! 69’s are great. I’m Naughty Nursey and I like my hair pulled”.

     “I’m Choke Me Chowder and I like to fuck my girl against the wall.”

     “I’m Jerk Me Jack and I like being pegged with a strap on.”

     “Finally! Everyone, I’m Shackled Shitty and I fantasize about blowing my neighbor who lives down the hall.”

     “Shitty!” Jack shouted and leaned over to wrestle the slip of paper from this hand. “This is in your handwriting, cheater, and you pulled it out of the hat on purpose!”

     “Dude you could have kept quiet but you just outed yourself!” Shitty retorted. “Now I can proclaim that yes, Jack Zimmermann has a crush on his very adorable neighbor and the party we are having these evening is supposed to inspire him to ask out his man.”

     Jack glared at Shitty while the rest of his friends chirped him. He didn’t appreciate the blatant invasion of privacy, but Shitty meant well and Jack secretly liked how his teammates supported him enough to chirp him about the guy he may sort of like.

     Shitty decided to get the show on the road. “We’re going to start with some accessories and then we’ll move onto sex toys. Remember this is a positive space. There are no stupid questions. Whatever happens in this room stays in this room.”

     The latter line was accompanied by a glare towards Dex and Nursey, who were well known among the Wellies for chirping each other in public with deets that probably should have stayed buried in the Haus. Dex and Nursey turned to face away from each other and had the good sense to look abashed.

     As Shitty started his speech, Jack decided that Shitty was surprisingly good at this. He talked about the importance of touch and foreplay in developing intimacy and trust with your partner. Apparently Shitty’s sister had a wide variety of samples for oils and lotions and Shitty passed them out.

     “Stuff to smell goes on the right arm, stuff to taste goes on the left arm! Now this is a stimulant you can put on your partner’s clitoris if they have one to help increase blood flow. Remember partners with a penis can be ready to participate in sexual activity as soon as they form an erection, but partners with a vagina need 20 minutes or more of foreplay for their bodies to be ready for sex. Using this will help decrease the amount of foreplay you need. Go ahead and pass it around. It goes on your left arm and it tastes like vanilla.

     Lardo, the first to take the bottle, opened the cap and sniffed carefully. Apparently deciding it wasn’t toxic, she squirted some on her wrist and lapped at it cautiously with her tongue. With her apparent approval, the bottle was passed around with little affair. Well, aside from Ransom licking some off Holster’s wrist while he thought nobody was looking.

     “Next we’ve got a shaving cream lotion. It’s supposed to help loosen the hairs to prevent the red bumps when you shave. Smells like strawberry, because I guess lotion needs to smell like shit? Put it on your right arm, you can smell it but don’t eat it. Pass that around too. It’s marketed for women shaving the bikini area, but I don’t see why men couldn’t use it to manscape? Really, that’s so patriarchal to insist that women are supposed to shave their pubic area but men aren’t required to – CHOWDER DO NOT LICK THAT, IT IS NOT FOR EATING!”

     Everyone turns to stare at Chowder, who was about to lick the shaving cream off his finger. He tried to defend himself with a “But it smells so good, I just wanted a taste!”

     “No, save your adventurous side for Farmer. She can be responsible if you accidentally poison yourself. Next, we’ve got massage oils for your skin. Massage can help relax and develop intimacy between you and your partner. Uhh, I guess put it on your left arm? The directions don’t actually say you can’t eat it,” Shitty said with a pointed look at Chowder, who looked sheepish.

     “This doo hickey is pretty cool too. When you bend it, the crystals inside emit heat and it becomes a heating pad with a bullet vibrator attached. Stick it in a pot of boiling water to freeze again.”

     Jack learned a lot about his teammates as Shitty cycled through the rest of his stash. Shitty showed off a set of leather restraints that Holster volunteered to wear. Holster pulled against them roughly and they don’t budge. He looked to Ransom and said reverently, “These are soft, we gotta get ‘em.”

     Tater joined in the fun, too. Shitty set up a sex swing on the front door and Tater helped Ransom demonstrate squat exercises and different sex positions. When Tater blushed after Ransom whispered in his ear, Jack was pretty sure Ransom invited Tater to a threesome with him and Holster.

     When Shitty brought out the different vibrators things really got crazy. Shitty made sure to give an educational lowdown. “ALWAYS clean your toys friends and replace silicone toys every two years so bacteria don’t get stuck in the cracks when it tears. And if your partner has a vagina, keep your toys for vaginal and anal penetration separate because your partner can get a serious infection if fecal matter enters the vagina. ALSO, on the topic of infection prevention, remind you’re a partner presenting with a vagina to go pee after every sexual interaction to clear out the urethra to prevent urinary tract infections.

     “Now these can be used for vaginal or anal penetration. If you’re ever going to have anal sex, it’s important to know your rectum is like a vacuum so stick nothing inside it except fingers, a penis, or a designed anal accessory. I don’t want to hear about any of you having to go to the ER because you got something tiny sucked into your colon. Ransom doesn’t wanna see you in the ER, am I right, brah?”

     “Chyeah. If anyone shows up to my ER with something stuck up your ass after this warning,” Ransom said, “you’re getting chirped for the rest of your life.”

     “Remember when having anal sex, especially for the first time, you want the partner bottoming to control the speed. Your rectum is a tight sphincter and not exactly intended to be used for sex, but your ass has thousands of nerve receptors regardless of gender and is a great way to hit the prostate so when done right it can feel good. The best positions are doggy style or curled on your side where the partner bottoming moves backward at their pace onto whatever object you’re using for penetration until you open the sphincter enough for the vacuum effect to take place.”

     Chowder shyly raised his hand. “Uhh, Professor Shitty?”

     “Yes, my good student Chowder?” Shitty looked very amused at his new title.

     “Are you supposed to like, open someone up first? Caitlin and I have talked about anal but like, I’m really afraid it might hurt me.”

     Surprisingly, Nursey was the person who responded. “You really need to be opened up a bit, first with a finger or like a really small dildo and work your way up to something bigger. And that’s gonna take time, don’t worry if you can’t open up all the way for something big the first time you try. Makes it easier to stretch out that muscle the more you practice. Oh, but remember to use a silicone-based lube because the water-soluble stuff for hand jobs or vaginal sex isn’t sufficient. But the silicone stuff can dissolve latex condoms so make sure you get tested and all that jazz.”

     Dex just stared at Nursey.

     “What, bro?” Nursey asked. “Safe sex is good sex. I can enjoy sex with men and women. Pan pride and all that.”

     While Dex and Nursey began another tiff, Shitty started sending people who wanted to buy anything upstairs to the attic where Hilary was apparently working on a paper and agreed to send in orders so everything was totally confidential. Ransom and Holster went up together, talking about how they wanted to get the sex swing and leather cuffs as they walked. Nursey had no problems sharing his purchases, and showed off his anal vibrator as well as new lube. Dex didn’t buy anything, but alternated between staring in panic at the floor and at the stuff Nursey was showing Chowder while listing all the accessories he had on back order.

     Finally, most of the guests had cleared out of the house. Jack noticed that Tater, Ransom, and Holster all left together, but didn’t say anything. Well, he might chirp Tater in practice about it later. When it was only Jack, Johnson, Shitty, and Chowder left, Shitty forced a reluctant Jack up the stairs.

     Jack had met Hilary on a few occasions before. On the outside, she was everything someone would expect of Shitty’s pedigree, but when she opened her mouth she had her brother’s penchant for causing mischief.

     “Did Shits force you up here?” she asked.

     “Euh, yeah,” Jack replied. “But I do want to support your charity work and all, eh. You have any of those heated massage things? It felt hotter than the heating pad I keep at home for injuries.”

     Hilary snorted. “Hockey players are all the same. But yeah, here, I got one.”

     Jack paid and went downstairs to say goodbye to Shitty. As Shitty gave him a hug, Jack roped him into a headlock and wrestled him to the couch.

     “This was totally unnecessary and I’d really appreciate if you don’t out my crush to anyone else,” Jack said, “but thanks for being supportive.”

     “Did it work?”

     “Yeah, yeah it might have.”


	3. Chapter 3

     It was a typical Friday after class at the end of October when Eric walked home to his apartment. He was more tired than usual today, a combination of a long day of class and staying up late on his channel the night before. The money his channel brought in was great for rent and graduate tuition, but that didn’t make him any less exhausted on Friday afternoons.

     Eric entered the front door, and stomped his feet on the mat before waving to the doorman and shouting, “Hey, Nicholas! How are you and Jean-Claude doing?

     “Pretty good, Mr. Bittle. Jean-Claude is busy at work doing name fission research so I’ve been taking extra shifts,” he replied. “And yourself?”

     “You know, thank the lord it’s Friday. Happy to hear Jean-Claude is getting further in his work!”

     “Same, same,” Nicholas said with a smile. “While you’re here, a package arrived for you earlier this morning.”

     “Package?” Eric asked, his face showing confusion. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”

     “Maybe it’s a care package from home?” Nicholas suggested as he lifted the box onto the counter.

     “Could be,” Eric replied with a shrug. His mama hadn’t mentioned any package, but it could be a surprise. He wrapped his arms around the fairly large box and heaved to find it was lighter than he expected given its size. “Thanks!”

     Eric walked inside his apartment and set the box on the dining room table before kneeling down to pet Gotham, who had bounded into the room with her tongue lolling after hearing his arrival.

     “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?” he cooed, while reaching for her leash. Eric led Gotham down the elevator and outside for a quick walk before returning home to make dinner and then open the box.

     Who was he kidding? Eric had never been able to pride himself on patience. Box, then dinner.

     Eric searched through the drawers to find his box cutter and then stood by the table. The box had no return address and was addressed to “Resident”. Honestly, the only way Eric knew it was intended for him was his apartment number.

     He clicked open the box cutter and started to cut the tape. Eric really hoped this wasn’t a bomb, or poison, or some other dangerous terrorist plot. He remembered reading that the post office scans all the boxes that get sent in the mail and he couldn’t think of any unsavory characters who had his address so he figured opening the box had to be safe.

     Eric took a first glance, had to shake his head, and look again. Because inside the box was, well….

     “Someone sent me 40 dildos via Fedex!” he cried in disbelief.

***

     The more Eric searched the box, the more he was sure he was not its intended recipient. Not that he didn’t want its contents, these were some of the best toys he had seen in ages and certainly couldn’t afford them himself with a student lifestyle. The last clue was a note buried underneath some odd dozen dildos, massage oils, candles, and lube. Dang, if this sender wasn’t thorough. There was also a bottle of toy cleaner, a cock ring, variety of condom sizes, a box of latex gloves, and an enema.

     Eric raked through the bounty to grab the note.

          “Jack –

          Thought you could put these to good use ;) They’re critical as a catalyst for your character arc in this alternate universe.

          - Johnson”

     Well, Eric didn’t know who Johnson was or what universe he was talking about but there was only one other Jack he knew in the building. A Jack whose address happened to differ by only one number, making him a very likely candidate for intended recipient if the mailing label had an error.

     It wasn’t that Eric didn’t want to talk to Jack – he did! But Eric had had several crushes on unattainable straight men in the past, and didn’t want Jack to be the next in a long line. While Eric’s crush was certainly in full effect, Jack had made his stance very clear with non-existent eye contact and curt interactions. Since Eric had seen Jack and his friend Shitty in September, he and Jack had shared some more awkward interactions in the hallway. Jack always had heads rubs for Gotham and asked about Eric’s day, but took off from the elevator like a bat out of hell and never answered personal questions about himself. Eric could take a hint. That didn’t mean having to hand deliver a box of admittedly pretty adventurous sex toys to an apparently taken Jack wasn’t going to sting.

     Deciding there was no time like the present, Eric put the note back in the box and folded the flaps back in place. He grabbed his key, slid into his slippers, and picked up the box to trek down the hallway.

     While he had never been formally told which apartment was Jack’s, he may have kept an eye out for which door Jack left whenever they walked down the hall at the same time. Eric was lonely and single. Sue him.

     He rapped at the door a few times and waited. Eric hoped nobody would answer and he could leave the box in the hallway. But wouldn’t that lead to more questions? The box was open and the nosy neighbors might be tempted to take a look at the admittedly very not safe for work contents. Eric also didn’t know if this Jack was the right Jack (good lord, he hoped it wasn’t) and the box of sex toys would certainly be an awkward find outside anyone’s front door. At least with the note addressed to someone else Eric knew he wasn’t being sent inappropriate packages by a creepy stalker.

     A few seconds before Eric was ready to abandon his mission and try another time, the door opened and a very tired Jack from Canada peered outside.

     “Euh….allo?”

     “Hey! Uhh, I think I got a package that was sent to you? It uhh…wasn’t addressed to anyone specifically but it had my apartment number on it so the doorman gave it to me, I mean why wouldn’t he, it had my apartment number on it, that’s how mail works, right?” Eric rambled. He paused but Jack just stared, so Eric decided to fill the silence. “So I opened it and there was, uhhh, stuff inside that I certainly didn’t order and I don’t know if you ordered it either but there was a note inside addressed to Jack and you’re the only Jack I know here besides you live close to me maybe there was a mix up with the address, could definitely happen, so uhh, I came to see if the box was yours?” Eric finished his ramble, voice squeaking.

     Jack made no move to respond, instead choosing to continue stare at Eric like a deer in headlights. Feeling too embarrassed to continue talking, Eric shoved the box forward and into Jack’s unsuspecting arms.

     “Euh, thanks,” Jack said when he finally broke out of his reverie. “I guess, come in and we’ll see if it’s mine, eh?”

     Eric flushed dark red and said, “Uhh, I can wait out here if you want, and then you can tell me if it’s yours after you look inside?”

     Jack’s forehead crumpled in confusion, and good lord if that wasn’t a cute expression. “It would be rude not to invite you in. Please, come inside.”

     The door opened all the way and Jack ushered Eric inside. Jack casually wandered into the kitchen and dropped the box onto the island counter while Eric stood dumbstruck at the end of the hallway.

     “Wow,” was all he could manage. Eric knew his apartment was tiny by the building’s standards – that was the only way he could afford rent in such a luxurious building – but Jack’s apartment was nothing short of opulent. The living room was as large as Eric’s entire apartment with a huge flat screen television on the walls and a kitchen he had only seen in fancy magazines. Bookshelves lined the walls filled with a combination of textbooks and pleasure reads interspersed with pictures of…Jack? With Jack rummaging around his kitchen for glasses, Eric decided to take advantage of the calm before the inevitable storm and edged closer to check out the pictures.

     That was Jack alright. He was wearing a hockey jersey and lifting a super-sized silver chalice in the air. In the picture, Jack was sweaty and hair rumpled, but Eric had still never seen someone so desirable in his life. He wondered if Jack would look as good after a workout off the ice. Nope, nope, nope, not letting his rampant imagination go there.

     Jack approached him, offering a glass of water, mouth dropping into a frown as he followed Eric’s gaze.

     “Stanley Cup Finals, 2016,” he said, his features schooled.

     “You …. play hockey?” Eric finally asked, taking the glass.

     This seemed to throw Jack for a loop. “Euh, yeah? You don’t know who I am?” he asked incredulously.

     “Well, you’re Jack from Canada who apparently is really good at hockey.”

     That comment earned him a small smirk. “Jack Zimmerman,” he said to Eric, offering his hand. “Center for the Providence Falconers.”

     Eric shook his hand and responded in kind. “Eric Bittle. Ex-figure skater. Former Southern Juniors Regional champion. Almost switched to playing on a co-ed hockey team after we moved, but broke my ankle and ended up joining the University of Georgia figure skating non-competitive club in college after I healed instead.”

     Jack nodded. Eric was pretty sure Jack’s face was exuding approval, which did something to his insides. “I’ve always been impressed by what figure skaters can do on the ice.”

     This boy. Eric needed to say something witty in return. Something flirty but not too flirty, because he didn’t want to make Jack uncomfortable but he was definitely interested. Maybe he should make a comment about how hockey players are built because Jack was no exception to the stereotype – that ass! No, no … Jack seemed like he’d be shy about his fame so that was out. Instead maybe he should –

     “Did you get a chance to check out the box yet, hun?”

     Well, that was a disaster. Not only did Eric ruin the perfectly good conversation they were having by suggesting Jack look at the collection of sex toys now perched on his kitchen counter, but he threw in an unsolicited term of endearment.

     Jack shook his head and walked over to the kitchen. Eric realized he should probably say something to save their novel neighborly relationship when Jack inevitably freaked out. Before he could think of something to say, Jack beat him to it.

     “Euh….,” Jack said quietly, his face beet red as he scoped out the contents inside.

     “Look, I’m so sorry I opened the box but I didn’t know it was yours, and I did want to just give it to you in the hallway but that was awkward and I didn’t exactly want to show up and say ‘Hey, look I’ve got your box of sex toys’ but maybe I should have because this is just as awkward and –“

     Eric stopped as Jack, apparently not listening, read the letter at the top of the pile and let out a long sigh.

     “Euh, yeah, I know Johnson so I guess this is mine,” Jack said, with a resigned tone. “My friends, thinking they’re funny.”

     “Well it looks like your friends did their research. From what I saw, they were very thorough.”

     Jack nodded in quiet agreement, tentatively looked through the box and pulled out items to leave on the counter.

     He picked up a soft bulb shaped item and turned it around in his hands. “Euh, why did they send me one of those baby nose cleaner things?”

     Eric didn’t respond and just stared, because this awkward man was too much. Jack was joking, right? Yet, Jack continued to stare between Eric and what was in his own hands. Maybe Jack wasn’t so much awkward as he was awkward and oblivious.

     Eric decided to lean against the opposite end of the counter. Jack’s naiveté was weirdly endearing.

     “Hun, uh, that’s called an enema,” Eric explained delicately. “You use it to uh, clear out your rectum before having anal.”

     Jack’s eyes went wide as he dropped the enema on the counter and turned bright red. “I – uh – um – eh?” he sputtered.

     The panicked and embarrassed expression on Jack’s face was enough to clue in Eric. “You don’t know what half of this stuff is, do you?”

     “Euh, no.”

     “Well,” Eric started, “I wouldn’t call myself an expert but I am at least familiar with just about everything in here.” This was a bad, bad idea. He needed to stop his mouth from running before he got into more trouble.

     Of course, Eric’s brain didn’t listen. “I could show you if you want. Shit, not like show you show you, but like, tell you what it’s for. That was totally not a proposition. I’m sorry, you’re probably horribly uncomfortable, I should just go.”

     Eric rounded the island and headed towards the door, ready to escape imminent death by humiliation. He was almost within reach of the handle when Jack called out, “Wait!”

     Turning around, Eric could see that the blush on Jack’s face had spread down his throat and Eric really wanted to see how far it would go. “You, euh, don’t have to go. I mean, I don’t know about – shit – I – ”

     “Here, I’ll leave you my number and feel free to text me later if you want,” Eric compromised, helping himself to a pen and paper on Jack’s counter. “I’m going back home to make something for dinner and probably stress bake several pies. If you want my help, text me. If not, no hard feelings, ok? I’ll still say hello to you in the hallways.”

     Jack nodded and Eric successfully made his escape. He closed Jack’s door, found his way back inside his apartment, and leaned his head back against the door with a resounding thud.

     Shit, what did he just get himself into?

***

     It took Jack a few hours to find his courage to text Eric Bittle. He had eaten dinner (well, drank a protein shake) and turned on the Red Sox game. Jack wasn’t normally one for baseball, but his mind needed the distraction.

     He wanted to text Shitty to ask for advice, but Jack wasn’t sure if he was aware of Johnson’s scheming. Besides, he knew what Shitty’s advice would be: Text. Him. Brah.

          Jack: Hi this is Jack  
          Jack: Zimmermann. From down the hall.  
          Jack: If you’re not busy, would you help me tonight?  
          Jack: With the box stuff.  
          Jack: Sorry for bothering you.

     Bittle: You’re so Canadian. Course, hun! What time?

     Jack: 8?

     Bittle: Sounds perfect. See you soon.

     That left Jack with an hour to wait. His anxiety sparked in his chest, causing tightness but he relaxed with the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him. Forty-five minutes until Eric arrived.

     The apartment was mostly clean, but Jack used his restless energy to pick up some of the jackets laying on the back of the chairs. He moved the box from the island to the living room and then back to the kitchen. The living room was too intimate. Would Eric get the wrong idea?

     Not that Jack wasn’t interested in Eric. He was physically attracted to Eric after seeing him online and in their few interactions in the hallway, but now he really had a crush after their interaction earlier today. Jack was grateful he stopped watching Eric’s channel after he met Shitty in the hallway. Had Jack continued his viewership after forming their tentative friendship, he didn’t think he could look Eric in the eye tonight. He wanted this evening to go well. Eric seemed to genuinely like him and didn’t care about who he was. He was cute and confident about sex in a way Jack knew he could never be.

     Thirty minutes until Eric’s arrival. Maybe he should call Shitty to get some advice. Or at least to update him on the unfolding situation. But no, that would lead to more awkward questions if this evening went poorly. This was one secret Jack might need to take to the grave.

     Fifteen minutes. Jack sat back on the couch and practiced slow, deep breathing. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He was an adult man. An attractive adult man. He was allowed to have a crush on his neighbor. And perfectly entitled to spice up his nonexistent sex life with some accessories.

     A knock on the door snapped Jack back to the present. He opened the door to Eric, who had changed into a black V-neck shirt and dark jeans and carrying a plate of lemon bars.

     “Thanks for coming Eric,” Jack waved a hand to welcome him inside. He strolled in confidently and placed the plate of dessert on the counter.

     “I was baking up a storm and brought some over. Hope you don’t mind. I know you’re on a diet in hockey season but I figured you have to have cheat days, right?”

     “I do get a cheat day now and then. They look great, thank you.”

     Eric finished his first square quickly while Jack took small bites to savor it. Deciding to take advantage of the companionable silence before the situation became awkward, Eric stood up to look inside the box and started taking things out.

     “Ok,” he said. “Looks like you’ve got some stuff that’s self-explanatory. Candles, massage oils, and the like are for foreplay. The toys are where you need to be a little more careful. Your friend included a bottle of cleaner, it’s really important to clean your stuff before and after use.”

     Eric paused to take a look at the directions on the bottle. “Yup, spray before and after, wash off with water. Pretty simple, just follow the directions on your bottle. If you’re using your stuff for you and someone else, I’d recommend using condoms on your dildos. Easier to keep clean that way, ya know?”

     Jack didn’t know and he was pretty sure his facial expression made that very clear. Eric let out a tiny snort before continuing.

     “Looks like these are the same brand and work about the same way. Try turning it on.”

     Jack took the dildo carefully and tried squeezing the handle. Nothing. Twisting the handle? Still nothing. Jack continued to poke at it until Eric was pretty sure he’d been about to bang the dildo against the table to see if that worked, because Jack seemed to be that helpless with technology.

     “Euh, help?”

     Eric stifled a snort. “There should be a subtle button…. here, yes, at the bottom of the handle, to change between settings. Click to cycle through from low to high and then press again to turn it off. The one that looks like an L, I think that’s meant for anal penetration. I mean, you can use ‘em all for that, but a lot of them are designed for a vagina while this one specifically has an oscillator meant for your prostate.” Taking a breath, Eric realized he had been monologuing again. “You with me, hun?”

     Jack nodded, taking it all in. His felt arousal brewing at the sight of Bittle’s skillful fingers manipulating the controls.

     “Uhh, what’s next?” Eric pondered aloud. “Looks like you’ve got your standard cock ring here. Put that on before you get hard and roll it down as far as you can. Helpful if you wanna get into edging. You know, holding off on coming? If you stretch it to fit behind your balls, too, that can feel nice.”

     Jack knew. He’d seen Cherry use that technique on screen during an edging session and judging by the sounds he made, Jack was pretty sure it must feel phenomenal.

     “This here is your gold,” Eric said with a smile. “Latex gloves help you stay clean when you open up someone else up with your fingers for anal.” As an afterthought, he added, “I’d also recommend using the enema. Fill it up with water and send it into your rectum to get everything out. Might take a few tries at first because it certainly feels weird. Umm, do that in the shower or something when you’re alone to make your cleanup easier.”

     The box was just about empty and while Jack had barely said anything at all tonight, he felt much more confident. At the very least, he had hope he could touch anything in the box without dropping it in embarrassment.

     “What’s the last thing in there?”

     “Oh, that looks like your standard sex swing. Should be instructions that come with it about how to set it up, let’s look.”

     There were unfortunately no directions in the box. For being such a methodical goalie in college, Johnson really has become forgetful, Jack thought.

     “Can’t be that hard, right?” Eric said. “Let’s see if we can set it up.”

     Eric picked up the straps before realizing he didn’t know where to go. “Uhh, which door do you want to try it on?”

     “Front door is probably a little conspicuous to have weights hanging over the edge, can we use my bedroom door?”

     Jack opened the door and Eric threw the two weights onto the other side before closing it. Eric motioned for Jack to pull on them hard.

     “You’re pretty bulky, but I think it should hold your weight,” Eric said. “Just have to figure out where all the straps go.”

     For having only a few straps, the swing was in an impressive tangled mess. Finally, Eric manipulated the knot to separate what was supposed to be the seat from the handles. He decided to demonstrate, balancing in the sling by squatting against the wall and pushing out in the arm straps like Superman.

     Jack really, really could not handle this. He tried to think of anything to push down his rising libido. Old jock straps. His crazy grandma on his mother’s side. Losing in the cup finals. Ah, crisis averted.

     Eric jumped out of the swing and offered the handles to Jack. “Wanna try?” he asked.

     “Sorry, but no,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t know if it’s strong enough to hold me.”

     “Suit yourself. Still fun to try with someone else.”

     They headed back to the kitchen with the box now empty. Reading that as his cue to go before the night could get more awkward, Eric bid his goodnight to Jack.

     “Well, lemme know if you have any other questions. Hope that was helpful,” he said with a smile. “Goodnight!”

     “Goodnight, Eric.”

***

     Jack didn’t intend to call Eric after that, because honestly, what would he say without sounding creepy. His working plan was to run into Eric in the hallway, in neutral territory, and strike up a definitely PG rated conversation. Nonetheless, a few days later he found himself in a predicament with only Eric to help.

     It was early on a Wednesday night and while Eric may have class Jack was really hoping he was home. Eric picked up on the third ring.

     “Hey, Jack! What can I do for you?”

     “Sorry, Eric. Euh, so, I need your help. Uhh, I turned one of the things on and it won’t go off again.”

     There was silence on the other end of the line. “Allo?” Jack asked again.

     Eric’s voice sounded kind of strangled on the other end. “You need me to help turn off your dildo?”

     “Euh, yes. I’m not using it right now or anything, I was just going through the box and decided to play around with it. And now it won’t turn off.”

     “I can uhh, be over in a second.”

     “Thank you. Sorry again.”

***

     The line went dead with a click. Well, Eric thought, he suddenly had plans for the evening. The pie crust was done, but he hadn’t started on his filling yet, so he felt comfortable abandoning his culinary pursuits to help a neighbor in need. He walked down the hall and knocked on Jack’s door.

     Eric heard footsteps and a low buzzing. Jack answered, his face a mix of relief and perplexion, as he continued to stare at the purple cylinder in his hand.

     “I keep pressing the button but it won’t turn off,” Jack huffed loudly.

     Indeed, Jack was right. He pressed the buttons continually, cycling between soft and rapid. Eric reached over and grabbed it from his hand gently.

     “You gotta hold it down to turn it off,” Eric said as he demonstrated. The vibrator turned off.

     “Oh,” Jack said, looking down at his feet. “Sorry to make you come all the way over here for nothing.”

     “No problem, hun. I was just in the middle of making a cherry pie. Hadn’t even put it in the oven yet.”

     Jack froze and his face turned ashen. Eric met his panicked gaze.

     “Are you alright, Jack?” Eric asked, putting his arm on Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s breathing visibly hitched.

     “N-nothing,” Jack stammered out.

     “Certainly didn’t sound like nothing, hun,” Eric said. “You can tell me. I don’t bite.”

     “It’s, I mean, kind of embarrassing, and you really really don’t want to hear it.”

     “Jack, honey, I spent last Friday night explaining to you how sex toys work. I think our friendship is past embarrassing.”

     Jack paused to consider, before carefully weighing his words. “Fine, but if you at any point feel uncomfortable and need to cut me off as a friend, I understand and I promise not to call you again and leave you alone.”

     Eric nodded, seeming to finally consider the seriousness of the situation.

     “So, euh, you said ‘cherry pie’, and I know that’s your internet name,” Jack started, peering at Eric from under his eyelashes. Then it was Eric’s turn to look ashen. “I had watched your channel for a while, and didn’t realize you were my neighbor until I saw Gotham with her cast after she popped up on screen. After I saw you in the hallway with Shitty I stopped watching, because we started to become friends and that would be blatant disrespect of your privacy.”

     Eric just continued to stare so Jack plowed forward. It was all out in the open now, may as well make his case. “It never really came up in conversation and I didn’t think it was polite to bring it up. So, euh, sorry.”

     Jack stood quietly, waiting for Eric’s response. Eric put his hands together and placed them against his lips for several minutes before responding.

     Eric took a few steps forward to stand in front of Jack. “You… watched my channel?”

     Jack nodded.

     “And you…liked it?”

     Jack nodded again slowly, not understanding where this was going.

     “Look, this isn’t exactly an ideal situation, but you came clean to me when I pushed, technically I post things online for anyone to see, and you stopped watching once you knew it was me. I really can’t think of anything else you should have done.”

     Jack’s anxiety quelled at Eric’s words and his shoulders visibly relaxed. Eric was still standing directly in front of him and took a step closer.

     “I appreciate you telling me. Now I’m gonna ask you something and I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable or want me to leave.”

     Jack nodded his assent.

     “Kiss me?”

***

     Jack didn’t exactly know how it happened, but the evening progressed to a full blown make out session on his couch. Eric straddled his lap, alternating between soft, deep kisses to his lips and nipping at Jack’s neck before soothing the skin with a nuzzle.

     It wasn’t until Eric smirked and ground his hips down against Jack’s very erect dick that he knew Eric was just as turned on as he was.

     “Are you interested in taking this to the bedroom, Mr. Zimmermann?” Eric asked, shedding his cardigan and draping it over the back of the couch.

     “Yeah,” Jack’s voice cracked. He moved to stand up with Eric still wrapped around his torso, when Eric broke his lips off Jack’s neck to stop him.

     “Wait, wait, hold on,” he said. “What are your boundaries for tonight?”

     “Euh, I guess whatever you want to do, I’m fine with that.”

     “Hun, you’ve seen my channel and I’ve seen you try to turn on a dildo, I’m probably a tad more adventurous than you in this department are. You set the boundaries tonight, ok?”

     “Well we don’t really have a lot of time to prep anything serious, and I haven’t done that in forever anyway. Can I blow you?”

     “I’ll never turn that offer down, sweetpea. I’ll return the favor. Make sure to grab condoms and lube out of the box on our way to your room.”

     “Condoms?”

     “Yeah,” Eric continued to kiss the side of his neck and whispered in his ear. “I know they’re not sexy, but we gotta use ‘em even for blowjobs if we haven’t been tested.”

     Admittedly, Jack hadn’t been tested after his breakup with Camilla, but they had always used protection. Still, it was nice to have a partner who took the safety rules seriously.

     “Ok,” Jack said and proceeded to head to the bedroom after making a quick stop in the kitchen for the condoms and a bottle of lube Johnson had so generously provided.

     Jack dropped Eric carefully on the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor to help take off his shoes and socks. After a brief kiss to Eric’s ankle, Jack looked up and asked, “What do you like?”

     “Mmmm, my nipples and the backs of my knees are sensitive so feel free to take advantage of that. I don’t mind kind of rough, but I prefer to be more familiar with my partner and having that trust first. No derogatory names, no slapping. My skin breaks easy too, so try not to scratch if you can. Usual social norms for a blowjob – don’t grab my hair too hard and give me a warning before you’re about to come. How about you?”

     “Euh, same preferences for the blowjob, I suppose. I’m really only sensitive on my neck, but try not to leave any marks. I change in the locker room and I don’t want to have to explain them. With my anxiety, I guess I like to know what you’re gonna do next if it’s something really sensory. So a heads up would be nice.”

     “Can do, sugar,” Eric said and pulled Jack up to press him into the bed. Jack’s knees found their way to the outsides of Eric’s hips and his elbows fell to cage Bittle’s head. Eric in turn reached his hands to cup Jack’s face in a tender kiss while grinding up against Jack’s pelvis.

     While grinding back, Jack’s fingers ran up and down Eric’s rib cage for several minutes before tentatively reaching down to curl around his knee and hitch it over his own hip. Eric broke the kiss to throw his other knee forward and hook his ankles together. He moaned at the change in angle and leant his head back to expose his neck. Jack recognized the invitation for what is was, and his lips started the journey from Eric’s mouth to neck.

     Deciding to shift the focus, Eric grabbed the hem of Jack’s shirt and tugged lightly.

     “May I?”

     “Go ahead.”

     Eric lifted the black tee as high as he could before it got trapped around Jack’s neck. Jack let out a small snort and pulled it off the rest of the way.

     “Good. Lord.”

     “What?” Jack asked, eyes frantically roaming their bodies in panic. “Is something wrong?”

     “Are you even real?” Eric asked, eyes glued to Jack’s abs. “Sweetpea, you have an actual six pack.”

     “Euh, yes? Well, I work out a lot.”

     “I can see that. I need to put my mouth on your abs,” Eric said with a pause. “Is that ok?”

     “Help yourself.”

     With an impressive twist, Eric shifted to push Jack into the bed and balanced himself on Jack’s stomach. He pulled off his own shirt (“Fair is fair, Mr. Zimmermann”) and started leaving a trail of kisses down from Jack’s neck.

     Finally, Eric arrived at Jack’s abs and they were even more magnificent than he had imagined. Running his tongue over them felt like licking a smooth, hard rock. Eric opened his mouth to softly bite at Jack’s stomach, being wary of Jack’s request for no marks. Jack let out a whine and bucked his hips in approval, almost hitting Eric in the chin. Even through Jack’s jeans, Eric could feel an obvious erection as it rubbed against his chest during Jack’s movements.

     Jack’s arousal fed straight into Eric’s, and he rut his own growing hardness into the mattress. Eric placed his hands on the waistband of Jack’s jeans and raised his eyebrows after making eye contact. At Jack’s nod, Eric released the button and tried to pull down the zipper with his teeth. Eric managed to pull the zipper a couple centimeters before it slipped out of his teeth with a painful “Ouch!”.

     “Are you ok?” Jack asked, now sitting up with an anxious face.

     Eric pushed him back down on the bed and started laughing. “I’m fine, sweetpea. Just tweaked my teeth a little. I’ve just always wanted to try that after I saw it online and now I guess I know why nobody ever does it. Lay back, I’m fine.”

     Not knowing what else to do, Jack settled back with a nod, and lifted his hips to help as Bittle used his nimble fingers to pull the zipper the rest of the way and pull Jack’s jeans off his rather impressively shaped legs.

     “Do you care where these go?”

     “Euh, no?”

     “Excellent,” Eric replied with a smirk, bundling the jeans into a ball and throwing them over his left shoulder with abandon. Jack raised his eyebrows a tick in response.

     Really with his NHL salary, Eric should not have been surprised that Jack wore the really soft kind of black boxers. They felt like worn flannel under his fingertips as he played with the waistline.

     “I know you wanted to know what I’m doing, so I’m going to touch your inner thighs and your cock, ok? Do you need more warning than that?”

     “No, no, that’s good. Thank you. Let me know if you’re going to touch anywhere else?”

     “Of course, sweetpea,” Eric said with a smile as he leaned over to the bedside table to grab the lube and box of condoms. “I want to make sure you feel good and feel safe.”

     Eric left butterfly kisses on the inside of Jack’s tree trunk thighs until he squirmed and then slowly peeled the boxers off his body. Jack’s cock was almost as impressive as his abs and ass. It was slightly longer than average, with striking girth and already standing at attention leaking pre-cum out of the foreskin. Eric used his thumb to collect the fluids and push Jack’s foreskin back before blowing air gently on the head. Jack’s hips arched off the bed as he let out a gasp.

     “Shh, shh, I got you sweetpea,” Eric cooed gently as he pushed Jack’s hips back down. He opened a condom and pushed back Jack’s foreskin before rolling the condom into place for increased sensation. Eric wrapped his hand around Jack’s cock and pulled a few times, experimenting with the tightness. “Ready for my mouth?”

     “Crisse, yeah.”

     Eric licked a stripe from the base to tip before removing his mouth and coughing. “Ugh, sorry, I forgot how much I hate the taste of latex.”

     “You really don’t have to –”

     “Stop, hun, I don’t mind. Just haven’t done this in a while and I forgot about the taste. Remind me to check the treasure box to see if your friend sent any flavored condoms later.”

     Without giving Jack time to respond, Eric bent down again and swirled his tongue around the tip and took Jack in as deep as he could go. Jack shouldn’t have been surprised – Eric was very, very good at this. He repeatedly pulled back using his cheeks to create hard suction and taking in more of Jack’s dick with each cycle. After reaching his limit, Eric used his hand to pull on the base in sync with his mouth’s movements.

     It was only a minute or two before Jack’s breathing became audibly labored and he choked out, “Calisse de tabernak, Bittle, I-I- I’m so close.”

     Eric picked up his speed and a few pumps later, Jack was spilling into the condom letting out a loud, strangled moan. Eric removed his mouth but kept his hand pulling Jack through his aftershocks until Jack finally leaned back against the pillows completely sated.

     “Crisse, sorry that was quick, I haven’t done this in a while,” Jack said chagrined. “Give me a minute and I’ll return the favor.”

     “Good lord don’t apologize sweetheart, it was hot. It’s about feeling good, not who can last longer. Take all the time you need, it’s flattering,” Eric said, while taking the opportunity to stretch out on the bed next to Jack and work the kinks out of his back.

     Several minutes later found Eric settled on Jack’s pillows while Jack rolled a condom onto Bittle’s cock and started working it with his mouth. For someone who could barely operate a dildo, Eric wasn’t expecting Jack to be particularly experienced.

     Eric was pleasantly surprised. Jack started off tentative, taking him in small amounts and the movements of his tongue felt unsure, but was making movements with his tongue that suggested he had practiced on a previous partner before.

     “Oh honey, you feel so good,” Eric said, wanting to give feedback and encouragement. “Can you suck harder, tongue firmer?

     Jack was as focused in bed as he was in the real world, and followed Eric’s directions to a T. He increased the pressure when he pulled off while pushing his tongue harder against the underside of Eric’s cock and into the slit at the head. He even used one arm wrapped under Eric’s leg and around his stomach to hold him in place while reaching to massage his perineum lightly with the other hand. It took much longer to reach Eric’s peak than Jack’s, but Jack maintained stamina until the end when Eric came with his mouth open in a silent cry and quiet moans through the aftershocks.

     While Eric lay in contentment, Jack pulled the condom off to tie the end and throw it in the trash. He curled up next to Eric and wrapped an arm around his torso.

     “Is this ok?” Jack asked.

     “Mmm, yeah, hun,” Eric replied. “That’s more than ok.”


	4. Chapter 4

     Post-coital cuddles with Jack were blissful. Jack’s arm was a comfortable weight across Eric’s abdomen and his fingers rubbed gently against his hip. Eric would be comfortable spending the rest of his life on this cloud-like bed under Jack’s arm but they hadn’t really discussed where they stood so Eric didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

     “Mmmm, I should go back home, sweetpea,” Eric said, stirring on the bed. “I have to walk the dog before bed and be up early for class tomorrow.”

     Jack’s fingers stuttered and stopped their ministrations against Eric’s hip. Quietly, he said, “Oh, yeah, ok.”

     Sensing Jack’s sudden discomfort, Eric wiggled onto his side and put a hand against Jack’s face. With a smile he said, “Before I go we should talk about this. I want to say, whatever happens between us, I know you’re not out publicly, and I promise not to out you.”

     Jack’s schooled his expression while the tension in his body continued to build and he nodded in acknowledgment.

     Eric noticed the muscles of Jack’s face harden under his fingertips. “Why so tense, sweetheart?” he asked, concern drawn on his face. “Did I say something wrong?”

     “No, nothing wrong. Thank you agreeing to keep my secret. I had a good time tonight. I hope you did, too. I’ll help you find your clothes.” Jack extracted himself from the bed and moved to start picking up clothes on the ground.

     Eric reached out to grab his wrist and pull him back to sit on the bed. “That sounds like a soundbite but I’m not a journalist. Something is wrong, honey, tell me what it is.”

     “Sorry,” Jack said, staring at the floor. “You wanted to leave and that’s fine but I’m not very good at talking after a one-night stand.”

     “So that’s what you want?”

     “Euh?”

     “That’s what I was trying to bring up. Whatever you want from me I promise not to out you, but did you want this to be a one night only thing or would you want to see each other like this again?”

     “Oh,” Jack said, blue orbs looking vulnerable. “If you’re amenable, I’d like to do this again.”

     Eric lit up and smiled, pulling himself closer to Jack to offer a chaste kiss. “I’d like that too, hun. But if we’re gonna do this, we gotta be open about how we’re feeling. Trust and good communication are kinda my ground rules with sexual partners, ok?”

     “Euh, I can do that.”

     “Excellent. Speaking of, do you want to have the history, tests, and boundaries talk now or some other time?”

     “Well, you’re here now,” Jack said, laying down to resume ministrations on Eric’s hip again. “What did you want to talk about?”

     “The basics, I guess? When was the last time you were tested? How much experience do you have?” Eric stopped and let out a small snort. “Based on how you were holding that dildo I was kinda expecting you to not have any experience with another guy, but I was pleasantly surprised with that blowjob.”

     “Well, I’m bi. I dated a couple women in college and a guy before that. I haven’t been with a man in years and we never did anything crazy, just hooked up a few times.”

     “Mmm, thank you for sharing sweetpea. I hooked up with a couple people in undergrad. Only two really serious boyfriends because it was hard to be out in Georgia, you know? Haven’t had time to date anyone since starting grad school,” Bittle said. “My last boyfriend, Tony, was really into the kink scene, so he taught me to dom a little bit, but he wanted to do more public scenes and I was never interested. We broke up when I moved here, but I definitely used all that knowledge on my channel.”

     Jack nodded in understanding. He asked, “So that’s how you knew about all the stuff in the box?”

     “Yeah,” Eric replied, face flushed. “Tony liked it when I used toys and stuff, but I did a lot of research myself when I started my channel too.”

     Eric paused, seeing a look of concentration on Jack’s face. Realization about why Jack might be nervous sparked through him. “Is that…something you’d be interested in doing with me? Having me show you, show you how all the stuff in the box works?”

     A slow nod was his response. “If you’re willing to be the teacher, I’m interested in being the student.”

     Eric flushed, dark red blush covering his cheeks and working its way down his chest. “Good lord, you’re going to be the death of me Jack Zimmermann.”

     “Euh, why?”

     Eric flopped his back onto the bed. “This is so embarrassing, but my mind immediately jumped to teacher-student role play.” He paused. “Which would be really hot, but not in any way something we have to do if you’re not comfortable with it.”

     Jack took a few seconds to ponder. “I mean, I’ve never really role played before, but I guess we can try it?”

     Eric flipped back onto his side to look Jack in the eyes. “We will never do anything we’re both not comfortable with, ok? I’ll always ask for your consent before we try something new. You should always feel ok telling me “no”, even to something we’ve done before.”

     “Thank you. I know I mentioned earlier that I have anxiety, so having everything laid out is nice. The anxiety means I might have to hit pause in the middle of what we’re doing and I might not be able to explain why,” Jack explained. “I’m also not really out, and it’s not exactly a huge secret, but I’d like a heads up before you tell anyone about us so I can be prepared? I know I’ll probably come out at some point in the future, but I’d like to finish off the season before I really think about that.” He deliberated for a moment before continuing, “Also, I’m not comfortable with any nude pictures or anything in case that gets leaked.”

     “I’d never out someone, and I don’t really have any close friends here I’d want to share this with anyway,” Eric said. “And I completely understand the no nude pictures. Does that mean you don’t want me to send any potentially dirty texts?”

     “Umm, I don’t really, know how? To…sext?” Jack said sheepishly. “My phone is locked, so you can send me stuff but I don’t know if I’ll be any good at texting back? I’m kind of a hockey robot.”

     “We can play that by ear,” Eric hummed. “It’s good to get everything out in the open, but we don’t need to plan everything to the last detail.” He raised a hand to tap his index finger to Jack’s chin as he continued. “The only thing set in stone is we both have to get tested before the next time we see each other.”

     “I can do that,” Jack replied with a small smile. “We’re leaving on our first roadie soon, but I’ll go to the team doctor.”

     “Sounds good, sweetpea,” Eric said as he stretched and twisted to put his feet on the floor. “Text me?”

***

     As hockey season picked up with the Falconer’s first roadie in November, Jack’s schedule became more chaotic. It was several days until he found time to build up the courage to send a text to Bittle.

     But how long do I wait? Jack thought to himself. Am I too late? Should I text back in a few more days?

     In the Haus, Ransom and Holster had talked about the secret of not texting. According to Holster, if Jack remembered correctly, waiting to text back means thinking highly of yourself, which in turn makes you seem more desirable to the other person. Was that still true if you had already slept with each other? Bittle had made Jack feel plenty desirable the other night.

     In the end, Jack decided to trust Shitty’s judgment. Besides, Shitty would undoubtedly appreciate an update.

 

          Jack: How long should you wait to text someone back?

          Shits: Fucking weird question brah.

          Shits: I mean, social convention says you don’t have to text back immediately, but sooner rather than later so you don’t forget ????????

          Jack: No.

          Jack: How long should I wait to text a guy back?

          Shits: HOLY SHIT YOU CANADIAN MOOSE.

          Shits: DO YOU HAVE ERIC’S NUMBER

          Jack: Yes. Since last Wednesday. When should I text back?

          Shits: Brah, now it’s Sunday. WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO GIVE ME THESE DEETS?

          Jack: Just answer the question, Shits.

          Shits: DEEEEEEEEEEEETS.

          Shits: DEEEEEEEETSSSSSSSS. Call me.

 

     Shitty, unsurprisingly, picked up on the first ring. “I’m withholding my answer until you give me deets. Deets brah, DEEEEEETS.”

     “Are you high, Shits?”

     “Brah, I’m high on the idea of the deets with your man,” Shitty said. After a long pause he added, “But yes I’m also high high.”

     “Crisse, Shits. Enough with the fucking deets already.”

     At Jack’s serious tone, Shitty sobered. “Jack, bro, I’m sorry, ok? I was just so excited at the idea of you making progress with Eric.” He paused again. “Is this an anxiety call?”

     Jack let out a sigh. “I don’t need to be talked down or anything, but the situation is making me anxious. I just….oh what the hell?”

     Deciding there was nobody better to share the story with than his best friend, Jack explained the situation to Shitty. Well, most of it. He left out some of the more explicit details.

     Despite all of Jack’s expectations, Shitty was completely silent until the end. After recounting the story about Johnson’s gift box, his awkward encounter with asking Bittle for help, his first hookup in years, and baring his soul about liking Bittle enough to schedule a repeat performance, Jack expected Shitty to be gloating like the year Jack joined Haze-a-palooza.

     Several moments passed before Shitty responded, slight awe in his voice, “Brah, for someone so awkward I didn’t know you had so much game.”

     Jack snorted. “Pretty sure I’m not the one in this situation who had game. I can’t even decide how to send a freaking text.”

     “Ok, first things first,” Shitty began, lecture mode apparent. “Text that beautiful motherfucker ASAP because fuck the rules. It’s polite to text the person you sleep with after you sleep with them when you promise to.”

     Jack sheepishly replied, “Euh, I know I have to, but how do I know when? Isn’t there a rule for how many days you’re supposed to wait?”

     It only takes a few moments before Jack realized he set Shitty into one of his tangents, his voice becoming louder and pitch raising in excitement. “Those ‘rules’ are so uncool man. Remnants of psychology from a patriarchal society where the body is a commodity. Basically, texting people back is the same principle as B.F. Skinner. You know, the operant conditioning guy from Psych One-Oh-One?”

     Jack was apparently not supposed to answer because Shitty was on a roll and kept talking a mile a minute. “His research was all about positive and negative reinforcements and how that affects behavior. Getting a text is like a positive reinforcement. But instead of a regular reinforcement – a text back every time you send one – the reward system in modern dating culture is randomized. Sometimes you get a text back quick and sometimes you need to wait two days. It’s just like gambling. Your brain gets addicted to the dopamine hits that come with text messages. The longer the wait between texts means your body wants the dopamine hit even more, so the dopamine shot feels stronger. Stronger dopamine hit means you place a higher value on the message sender. Basically, as a society we’re addicted to delaying our messages because we get high on it. More frequent texts are associated with weaker hits, so we don’t view the receiver as desirable because we don’t need to work for the reward by waiting.”

     Shitty took the opportunity to pause and Jack could hear the thud of a bottle on a counter through the phone. Before Shitty could start part two of the monologue, Jack interrupted him. “That’s great and all, but how does that help me?”

     “Well, brah, it’s been four days which is plenty of time if you want to play by Skinner’s rules. But in general, just text the man back. The highs feel really good, but the lows in between texts feel really low. As a society we should probably try to break the cycle, you know? Show people we care by texting back and telling them we’re not interested with our words, not avoidance behaviors. Besides, calling is where it’s at. Texting doesn’t have non-verbal cues and there is literally no start or stop to a conversation so we’re failing as a society to teach social cues to begin and conclude social interactions.”

     “So…call him?”

     “I mean, that’s probably putting the cart before the horse. You did say you’d text him and it’s been a few days. So. Text. Him.” After a pause, Shitty added, “But don’t be afraid to call him in the future? Someone in this society needs to start the ‘Bring Back Calling People’ revolution.”

     Jack rolled his eyes fondly, but followed Shitty’s advice after hanging up.

     Jack: Had a good time the other night. Back from our roadie in a few days. Are you free next weekend?

***

     As it turned out, Bittle was free on Friday night. Well, he was free Saturday and Sunday too, but Jack had always been a little impatient. The Falcs were playing the Buffalo Sabres on Friday night, so they made plans are for a late dinner after the game. Not that any game is a sure win, but the Sabres had been cruising the bottom of the rankings. If the Falcs can make their passes connect, a win would be highly probable. Jack certainly had an incentive to do his best on the ice to avoid overtime and return to the apartment in a euphoric mood.

     On Friday, Jack found himself in a distracted headspace while suiting up in the locker room. Tater spouted his usual pre-game chirps to Snowy, who was putting on his goalie pads by the wall opposite. Poots, ever the forgetful rookie, tried to borrow stick tape off Marty and Thirdy. All in all, the rest of the locker room was gearing up for a game in typical style.

     Having the ‘A’ meant that Jack should join them. Usually, he could pull himself out of hockey robot mode enough during pre-game rituals to share a few chirps, to add to the team camaraderie.

     Today was different. Bittle’s response echoed in Jack’s ears. After this game, he was going to Bittle’s apartment. For dinner and dessert. Bittle had even clarified the dessert was both literal and metaphorical. He could have both his desserts, if only he could get through this game. That was his goal: score, win, and avoid overtime at all costs.

     It wouldn’t do to play distracted. Jack needed his head in the game. He shook his head to clear out daydreams of what was to come and finished lacing up his skates.

     “Zimmboni!” Tater yelled in his direction, a wide smile on his face. “Bet I make more goals than you tonight.”

     Jack was pretty sure Tater had wagers with everyone on the ice – paid in beer or shots of vodka at the bar after the game of course – that he won more often than not. Nobody can say no to Tater because he really is a giant teddy bear, even if he does have a competitive streak a kilometer long.

     “Not hard to make more than none, Tater Tot,” Jack replied.

     “I chirp by Zimmboni!” Tater shouted with a laugh. “You have to back up. You win, I buy fancy drink. I win, you buy me vodka.”

     “I don’t…”

     “Zimmboni, I insist!”

     “I….fine.”

     As Tater proceeded to walk around the locker room, Jack sighed. “Well,” he said to himself, “that might be a problem.”

***

     Jack left the rink for the locker room feeling euphoric. He had earned his first hat trick of the season, and the Falconers took the game in regulation time. Rushing to both get home to Bittle and sneak away from Tater, Jack changed into his suit and gave even more abbreviated press than usual. Georgia, standing next to the PR intern, raised an eyebrow at him as he left the media room. His only response was a shrug and sheepish smile.

     As he was about to grab his bag and leave the rink, Tater stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

     “Zimmboni! You come out. I owe you drink.”

     “Euh, not tonight Tater,” he replied. “Seriously though, thank you for the invite.”

     “But you win bet?” Tater asked confusedly. “Means you come out. I buy you drink fair and circle.”

     “Fair and square,” Jack corrected. With a small smile, he added, “Another night, maybe, but euh, I have somewhere else to be tonight.”

     “You…have plans tonight?” Tater asked slowly.

     “Yeah.”

     “Plans like date?”

     “Euh…”

     Before Jack could convince him otherwise, Tater wrapped an arm around his shoulders and shouted to the locker room at large with a large grin, “Zimmboni have date tonight!”

     Jack was sure his face flushed as the chirps came: “Cheating on the rink?” “Scoring three times tonight wasn’t enough?”

     “Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Marty shouted, sitting under his stall with a grin. “Let the man live. We want to meet this girl eventually if she keeps making you smile like that, ok?”

     Feeling a tightness in his gut, Jack just nodded in thanks. Tater unhooked his arm from Jack’s shoulders but grabbed the strap of Jack’s bag so he couldn’t escape.

     “Date with cute neighbor?” Tater whispered.

     When Jack nodded, Tater gave him a smile as he let go of the strap leaving Jack to slip out the door while his teammates playfully let out chirps from behind him.

***

     It was just past ten by the time Jack found himself knocking on Bittle’s door straight from the rink, bag still in hand. He smoothed the front of his suit and ran a hand through still damp hair. His shower at the rink was more thorough than usual, but still rushed.

     Bittle opened the door dressed in a dress shirt with a bowtie and a grin on his face.

     “Jack! Congrats on the win. Come on inside, I hope you’re hungry.”

     “Thanks, Bittle,” Jack replied. “I may have worked up an appetite earlier.”

     “Oh chirp, chirp, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said fondly. “Also...Bittle?”

     “Euh, sorry,” Jack said sheepishly, running his hand down the back of his head. “Habit from hockey.”

     “I don’t mind hun,” he said reassuringly. Bittle stood aside for Jack to enter, and pointed him towards the kitchen. The apartment was small, much smaller than Jack’s, but cozy. Most of the floorplan was dedicated to a kitchen and living area with two doors which Jack assumed led to the bathroom and bedroom. While Jack admired the layout, Bittle filled two plates with steak and potatoes and placed them on the table.

     Jack put his hockey bag on the floor near the corner. Sensing a newcomer, Gotham left the bedroom to smell Jack’s bag. He rubbed her head slowly as she tried to nuzzle her way inside the bag.

     When they both sat down to eat, talking with Bittle wasn’t awkward. He had watched the game on TV and asked insightful questions about strategy and plans for the next away game in San Jose. Soon dinner was over and pie was on the table. As Bittle cut two slices, he said, “I know you’re Canadian so I tried out a maple apple recipe.” With a shy smile, he added, “I hope you like it.”

     “I’m sure it’s delicious, thank you.”

     Bittle finished his pie quickly while Jack took small bites to savor it. As he put his spoon down, Bittle got up while saying, “I have to get something really quick, I’ll be back in a second.” While looking through the papers on his counter, he added, “So I’m going to change the mood with awkward sex talk. I got my test results back yesterday and I’m negative across the board.”

     He handed the paperwork to Jack, the negative results highlighted over the page. Jack skimmed the page, its contents confirming what Eric had just told him. He put the paper on the table and fished his phone out of his pocket.

     “I had the medical staff at the rink run mine,” Jack explained. “Negative too. They sent a copy to my email.”

     Jack scrolled for several moments before Bittle interjected, “Hun you don’t, uhh…”

     “Euh, you showed me your results, only fair I show you mine,” Jack interrupted, glancing up to meet Bittle’s eyes. “Besides, isn’t that how trust is built? You say something but then back it up. At least that’s what my therapist says.”

     “Your therapist sounds like they know what they’re talking about,” Bittle said softly. “Well I do appreciate you showing me. I do trust you, but you can never be too careful when it comes to STDs.”

     Jack passed the phone with results on the screen to Bittle. Bittle leaned his hip against the table while skimming through before handing the phone back to Jack.

     “Are you done with your literal dessert yet?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

     Jack gulped and shoved the last two big bites in his mouth.

     “I am now,” he said with a grin.

     “You silly boy,” Bittle said, moving to straddle Jack’s lap. He moved his mouth towards Jack’s ear and continued in a low voice, “You did such a good job on the ice tonight. I think that hat trick deserves a nice reward.”

     Bittle punctuated his statement with teeth pulling on Jack’s earlobe and pulled back to give a smoldering look.

     Jack looked back with eyes blown. “Euh, the box is still in my apartment.” After a pause, he continued, “Should I grab it or do you want to come to mine?”

     “Your bed is more comfortable than mine. Let’s go across the hall. I just need a minute to put the dishes away.”

     ‘Away’ was a bit of an overstatement. With Jack’s help, Bittle threw the dirty dishes into the sink and covered the leftover pie before putting it in the fridge. The remains of dinner went into Tupperware that Bittle carried to the doorway and balanced against the wall while trying to put his loafers on. At Jack’s eyebrow raised in question, he said, “I’ve seen the state of your kitchen, hun. You need the leftovers more than me.”

     Jack wasn’t about to disagree. He picked up his hockey bag and led Bittle down the hall.

***

     The box had migrated from Jack’s kitchen to his bedroom. Jack sat next to Bittle on the edge of the bed, watching him search through the box for something specific. Bittle pulled out a bottle of lube before continuing to rummage, muttering under his breath, “I know I saw it in here last week.”

     Jack stayed silent until Bittle raised his hands, one with some sort of tube and another with a silicone ring, in victory.

     “Euh…what’s that for?”

     “Well, as long we you’re ok with it, I’d like to put a cock ring on you and then give you a blowjob.”

     “Cock ring…?” Jack asked, picking the circle out of Bittle’s hand to examine it.

     “Yeah, it’s a stretchy ring that I’ll lube up a bit and slide down your cock until it’s at the base. Basically, it’s like a blood pressure cuff. It’ll increase the pressure on your dick so your erection will last longer and feel more intense when you take it off and finally cum.”

     “That’s…safe?”

     “You shouldn’t keep it on for more than 20 minutes, but I’ll make sure to have it off you by then,” he said. Quickly, Bittle added, “But if you’re uncomfortable and want it off sooner I’ll take it right off.”

     “I’d like to try that,” Jack said. “What’s in your other hand?”

     “Oh, this is called Great Head, it’s a numbing cream so I can blow you deeper without my gag reflex acting up.”

     “If it’s gonna make you gag you don’t have to blow me,” Jack said shyly.

     “I wanna make you feel good sweetheart. I don’t mind. Usually I use the spray version but the gel should work the same way,” Bittle said, looking at the directions on the back. “Yeah, just put some in the back of your throat, swallow, let it set for a few minutes, and voila!”

     Bittle laid the gel and cock ring on Jack’s nightstand, and used a hand to push Jack flat against the mattress. “Does all that sound ok with you?” he asked.

     At Jack’s confirming nod, Bittle leapt up to crouch on hands and knees over Jack while Jack shimmied himself up the bed to lay against the pillows.

     Their kiss started tentative until Jack reached his arms around Bittle’s waist to pull him flush against Jack. Jack’s fingers toyed with the hem of Bittle’s shirt as he asked, “May I?”

     With a nod, Bittle moved to give Jack room to take off his shirt, before slipping his fingers to undo Jack’s buttons and do the same. Their pants followed, clothes a careless pile on the floor.

     While Jack’s fingers ran up his side, Bittle supported himself on one hand and reached over for the Great Head. “It’ll have activated by the time I get the cock ring on you,” he explained.

     He squirted a sizeable amount on his left palm before picking up most of it with a finger and rubbing it as far back in his mouth as he could reach. He scrunched his nose and swallowed.

     “Does it taste bad?” Jack asked, curiously.

     “No, this is green apple so it tastes like a Jolly Rancher. It’s just strong.”

     Bittle put the gel back on the nightstand, and grabbed the lube and cock ring in his right hand. He used his free hand to stroke Jack’s cock until it was half hard before slicking the inside of the ring with lube. The ring stretched between his fingers and Bittle used two hands to carefully slide the ring to the base of Jack’s dick, nestled snugly in front of his balls.

     “I’ll be sure to take it off in twenty minutes, ok?” Bittle said. At Jack’s nod he added, “Let me know if it feels uncomfortable and I’ll take it off.”

     Bittle wiggled down the bed, curled so he was curled over thighs to chest, and lifted Jack’s legs over his shoulders. He took a moment to collect saliva in his mouth before taking Jack’s head in his mouth and sliding down halfway towards the base, letting the spit act as a lubricant. Pulling back, he took a breath to blow lightly on the tip before sliding down again, in and out until the tip of Jack’s cock was bumping the back of his throat.

     “Crisse,” Jack whimpered, hands clenching the comforter.

     Bittle pulled off with an audible, wet pop. “Feels good?”

     “Crisse, yes. It’s so much.”

     “That’s the idea, hun.”

     Bittle proceeded with his ministrations, moving to lightly stroke at Jack’s balls and carefully run his index finger behind them along his perineum.

     After several minutes, Jack froze and sharply said, “Bittle.”

     He pulled off Jack once more to ask with a confused face, “What, hun?”

     “I-I-I can’t feel anything.”

     “What?”

     “I can’t feel my dick,” Jack said, panic setting into his voice, gulping for air.

     “Oh sweetheart, I’ll take off the ring, just hold on a sec.”

     The mood shifted towards seriousness as Bittle carefully stretched the ring and slid it off Jack’s shaft, mindful to not pull on any pubic hairs. “Does that help?”

     “I-I don’t know,” he started. “Maybe it needs a few more minutes for the blood flow to go back to normal?”

     “That’s a good idea, hun,” Bittle said softly, as he moved to lay down next to Jack. With an arm thrown over Jack’s torso, he rubbed soothing circles into his hip.

     Several minutes later Jack was successfully managing his breathing but his erection was gone. “Euh, can we be done for the night?” he asked softly, blush spreading over his cheeks and down his chest. “I still can’t feel anything and with the anxiety don’t think I can….”

     “That’s more than fine, sweetheart,” Bittle answered, keeping his perch by Jack’s side. “It’s odd though. You didn’t have the ring on for more than 10 minutes and I’ve never heard of it causing numbness before.” Jack moved an arm to wrap around Bittle’s shoulders and run fingers through his hair. As Bittle hummed in contentment he continued, “I don’t know what could have happened, we only used the ring and—”

     He bolted upright in bed, knocking Jack’s arm as he twisted to reach for the nightstand. “Good lord, I’m a moron,” he said, looking at the gel bottle. “It gets rid of your gag reflex because it’s a numbing agent. I got no gag gel on your dick and that numbed it.”

     His eyes met Jack’s for a moment before they both started laughing.

     “I’m so sorry, hun,” Bittle said, when their laughter abated. “I’ve only used the spray before, not the gel. I didn’t know it would do that.”

     “Euh, it’s fine,” Jack replied. “It means we know for next time.”

     “Good lord, this boy. You think there’s gonna be a next time?”

     “Sorry. I shouldn’t assume.”

     “Bless your heart, Mr. Zimmermann. Of course I’d love there to be a next time.”


	5. Chapter 5

            With Jack on a roadie, he and Bittle had taken to talking on the phone about their boundaries. It started with a text from Bittle apologizing again for not better researching the gel before using it and a promise to be more careful in the future. Mindful of Jack’s hesitation about salacious texting, Bittle asked if they could talk on the phone to figure out what they wanted to do when Jack got back from their stretch of away games.  
  
            “Alright, hun, I picked the toys last time, what do you want to use on Tuesday?”  
  
            Jack considered. There was something he did want to do, but felt slightly embarrassed bringing it up. Shitty’s voice echoed in his head (“My dudes if you can’t talk to your partner about it then you have no business doing it”) so he plundered on.  
  
            “It’s not a toy so much as something I want to try with you,” Jack explained, trying to keep his pitch normal. “I sort of did it with my ex, but we weren’t very…successful.” He thought back to the days with Kent. Two fumbling teenagers without a clue, running into obstacles of his anxiety without realizing how to work around his nerves.  
  
            “I want to know what it feels like to bottom,” Jack continued. “When I tried before, my body panicked because of the anxiety and we really didn’t know what we were doing. So, euh, I didn’t really fully enjoy it.”  
  
            Bittle was quiet on the other end for a moment. “I think that’s definitely doable. Have you ever talked about it with your therapist?”  
  
            “I-I-euh-n-no,” Jack stuttered.  
  
            “I’m not saying you have to,” Bittle jumped in quickly. “I just wanted to know if they had any strategies to help your anxiety. I’ve got some ideas, but I’m your friend, not your therapist. I don’t want to overstep.”  
  
            “Oh,” Jack said. “Well, it hasn’t…come up since I’ve started therapy. I’d like to hear your ideas, I trust you.”  
  
            “Well, from what you’ve told me, you like to know what’s going on, correct?”  
  
            Jack hummed in confirmation.  
  
            “What if we work our way up?” Bittle suggested. “I’ll start as bottom first, and walk you through how to open me up. I know what I’m doing so I can teach you how. Once you’re comfortable with that process, in the future I’ll do it to you. That feel ok with you?”  
  
            Jack felt a twinge in his chest as how considerate and thorough Bittle was. “Yeah,” he said softly. “That sounds good. I’ll bring it up with my therapist if I start feeling uncomfortable.”  
  
            “Perfect, sweetheart.”  
  
            Jack really didn’t want the conversation to end. Bittle’s voice was soothing in a way that the quiet hotel room was not. He didn’t expect Tater, his roommate on the road, back from the bar for at least another hour. Trying to prolong their call, Jack asked, “So how was class today?”  
  
            It was apparently the right question to ask. Even from their brief interactions in the hallway, Jack knew Bittle was very passionate about his classes and food.  
  
            From Bittle’s ramblings, Jack knew he was in an MBA program with the hope to run his own bakery. He was supplementing his MBA coursework with Food Studies classes from the Brown electives list.  
  
            “My American Studies degree in Georgia was mostly food studies electives, but every university pulls professors from different departments,” Eric explained. “The classes here at Brown are different than back in Georgia.  
  
            His food studies classes gave plenty of inspiration about how to reduce environmental impact and offer plenty of appropriate food choices for the athletes that graced the Providence streets. “I knew a little as a figure skater, of course,” Eric rambled, “but it’s so important for athletes to eat high protein and carbohydrate meals after a workout for long-term energy and muscle building. Everyone eats bagels or pastries these days for breakfast, which has carbs for short-term energy but you crash without the long-term energy source.”  
  
            As Bittle took a breath, Jack added, “I always eat peanut butter and jelly before a game. Peanut butter is easy protein.”  
  
            “Oh good lord!” Bittle exclaimed. “I never thought of making peanut butter themed pastries. I’ll have to try out new recipes and…”  
  
            Bittle was off again, talking about pastries with names Jack had never heard of and something about a jam feud. Jack listened and soaked up Bittle’s enthusiasm until Bittle wound down, getting serious. “I have so many ideas and recipes, but I worry about being able to actually implement a business plan. My MBA program is fabulous and I’m learning a lot about making a business plan, but I’ve never been good at making numbers work.”  
  
            “You should talk to my friend Holster,” Jack said before he could think. “We were on the hockey team together at Samwell. He was an econ major so he’s great with numbers.”  
  
            “You’d…want me to meet your friends?” Bittle asked tentatively.  
  
            “Euh, why not?” Jack asked. “Shitty knew I liked you and basically threw a sex toy party in my honor so everyone knows about you.” Deciding that sounded odd out of context, Jack added, “That’s where the box came from. Our old goalie, Johnson, was there and decided to take matters into his own hands.”  
  
            “If you really don’t mind, I could really use the help from, uh…Holster?”  
  
            “Hockey nickname. His real name is Adam but we called him Holster,” Jack explained. “He would be happy to help and the others would love to meet you I’m sure.”  
  
            “Do they have any wild stories from your college days?”  
  
            “Nope, none at all,” Jack said flatly.  
  
            “I don’t believe you,” Eric laughed.  
  
            Jack was about to report when he heard the click of a room key and saw Tater enter.  
  
            “Hey Zimmboni—” he started to yell, before cutting himself off upon seeing Jack on the phone.  
  
            “Hey Tater,” Jack said looking up. Into the phone, he said, “My roommate just got back, so I should get going. I’ll see you on Tuesday?”  
  
            “Looking forward to it, hun,” Bittle said. “Have a good night.”  
  
            “Night,” Jack said softly before the call disconnected. He looked at Tater who wore a big grin on his face.  
  
            “I wonder why you no want go with team,” he said gleefully, “but see now you talk with sweetheart neighbor. Is cute. When I meet?”  
  
            “Euh, I don’t —” Jack started before Tater cut him off.  
  
            “No lie, Zimmboni,” Tater said, one eyebrow quirked. “Fine. You keep quiet but I see you smile. Happy.”  
  
            “I—thanks, Tater. If things work out, I hope to introduce you.”  
  
            “That all I ask,” Tater said, before heading into the bathroom.  


***

  
            Jack found himself in bed wearing his good boxers the night before the Falconer’s Saturday off. They had a game last night and practice this morning, but nowhere to be tomorrow. Jack wasn’t one to skip his morning run, but hypothetically he could sleep in tomorrow morning. Not that he was hoping to or anything.  
  
            Restlessly, Jack rearranged himself on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position while repeatedly contorting to look at the nightstand.  
  
            Before heading into the bathroom with his personal enema – “The one in the box is for you,” Bittle had explained. “I’ll use my own”— Bittle had pulled condoms, non-latex gloves, silicone lube, a butt plug, and small dildo out of the box. Jack trusted Bittle, that he would know what to do, but it was still overwhelming that Bittle trusted him in turn. Bittle wanted to share this intimate experience with him.

  
            Jack could hear the shower turn on for several moments before turning off again. It was several more minutes before Bittle came out, leaving an opaque toiletry bag by the door. Eric turned around, eyebrows raised, and a hand on his hip. “Like what you see?” he asked.  
  
            Jack did—he really did—but his mind was fixated on a puzzle he couldn’t solve. He blurted out, “Why isn’t your hair wet if you took a shower?”  
  
            Bittle’s nose scrunched. “I didn’t take a shower.”  
  
            “But the water…”  
  
            “Oh,” Bittle replied, cheeks flushed. “I took a shower earlier today but I used in the enema in your tub to contain the mess and used the shower head to clean up. That ok?”  
  
            Now it was Jack’s turn to blush. “That’s-that’s fine!” he said emphatically. “I just wanted to know how to prep myself when we switch.”  
  
            “Don’t think about it now, hun.” Bittle walked to sit on the bed and put a hand on Jack’s check. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do when the time comes.” He gave Jack a peck on the forehead before asking, “You ready?”  
  
            At Jack’s nod, Bittle moved to straddle his waist and initiate a deep kiss. Bittle nuzzled against Jack’s stubble trying to turn into a Movember beard. “Is this a preview of your playoffs beard?” he asked playfully.

            “I don’t want to jinx anything, but hopefully. Do you not like it?”

            “The beard burn feels different, but it’s your face you can grow whatever you want on it.” After another kiss, Bittle added, “There’s still a few more weeks in November, I’m sure it’ll grow on me.”

Jack snorted at the bad pun. Then he kissed and dragged fingers over Bittle’s torso for a few minutes before Bittle said in a tone that reminded Jack of a professor, “Ok, we’re going to start out like usual with kissing and touching. It’ll be easier to open me up if I’m relaxed and turned on.”  
  
            “You’ll tell me when you’re ready for more?”  
  
            “’Course, sweetpea.”  
  
            Jack took to his task with the same concentration he used on the ice. He placed kisses from Bittle’s jaw to his torso, and wrapped his hands around Bittle’s muscular thighs to better run his thumbs around his hip bones. He reached for the lube on the nightstand and placed a modest amount in his palm before reaching to pull at Bittle’s dick for several strokes and eventually cupping his hand around Bittle’s balls gently. While lightly massaging them with his hand, careful not to use too much pressure, he reached out with a finger to rub at Bittle’s perineum.  
  
            With a high-pitched moan, Bittle arched his back, trying to create more friction against Jack. When he was unsuccessful, he reached down to bat at Jack’s hand.  
  
            “Did I do something wrong?”  
  
            “Good lord, sweeatpea, no,” Bittle said breathlessly. “Just want to rearrange. Can I rub myself on your abs?”  
  
            “Euh, help yourself.” As Jack responded, Bittle pushed himself up and bed and wrapped his legs around Jack’s torso.  
  
            “Pleeeease keep doing what you were doing,” Bittle begged, head rolling back against the pillows. As Jack started his ministrations again, Bittle started a slow grind against his abs.  
  
            “I love your abs, sweetheart,” Bittle rambled. “They’re so hard, feel so good.” Hearing Jack’s groan at his words and feeling Jack’s cock press harder against his under thigh, Bittle decided to continue. “You’re so good at that, hun. I love your fingers. They know just how to make me feel good.”  
  
            Jack leaned forward to capture Bittle’s lips in an eager kiss. “You like when I say nice things like that, hun?” Eric asked, pulling away.  
  
            “Crisse, yes,” Jack moaned from his new position nosing into Bittle’s neck.  
  
            Bittle let his legs fall and giggled at Jack’s brief frustrated expression when Bittle’s body hit the bed. “You’re doing so good honey, I was almost going to cum before we got to the good part.”  
  
            “Sorry,” Jack said sheepishly.  
  
            “Good lord, never apologize for making me feel good,” Bittle said, breathing heavy. “I’d let you keep going but then I’d be too oversensitive to open up.” His face turning pensive, he added, “Maybe one day we could keep doing that. You bring me close to the edge and then stop.” He punctuated his last few words with firm kisses. “Again and again and again.”  
  
            “Calisse de tabernak, that’s hot.”  
  
            “I mean, that’s approaching more BDSM territory so we’d have to talk consent and safe words and boundaries.”  
  
            “Euh, that sounds serious.”  
  
            “It is serious because it’s important for physical and emotional safety. Sex is about chemicals but BDSM manipulates your chemicals in a different way. It can feel really good, but you can crash really hard if you’re not doing it right.”  
  
            As Jack’s eyes widened in panic, Bittle put a hand on his cheek and softly said, “If it’s something you want, we can talk about it later. It’s not like in Fifty Shades, I promise. Besides, I trust you but I don’t know if we’re quite at that level yet. We still need to get to know each other better before jumping into the deep end. Since we’re definitely not doing that tonight let’s focus on what we do want to do.”  
  
            “Is that your way of saying I should use my soft hands on you?” Jack asked, deadpan.  
  
            “You know, everyone thinks you have no sense of humor,” Bittle said exasperatedly. “They just don’t listen.” After a pause he added, “But yes, please get your soft hands on me.”  
  
            Bittle stacked two pillows in the center of the bed, covered them with a towel, and laid down on top of them face down, ass in the air. His arms curled around another pillow, head tilted to the side so Jack could still hear him speak. “It’ll be easier to open me up in this position.”  
  
            At Bittle’s instruction, Jack pulled on one of the gloves and put lube on the fingertips. He continued his perineum ministrations for several strokes before reaching backwards to circle around Bittle’s hole. Bittle tensed at the sensation and Jack stilled his hand. “You alright?”  
  
            “Mmmm, doing great hun. The lube is just cold.”  
  
            Jack pulled back to rub his hands together and warm the liquid. After getting the lube to be adequately room temperature, Jack returned to tracing light circles around Bittle’s ass.  
  
            Bittle was using deep breaths in and out to try to relax his body. His body reacted with frequent spasms as Jack continued to stimulate him, but Jack could feel the muscle tension loosen as Bittle kept breathing.  
  
            “You feel how I’m loosening?” Bittle asked slowly.  
  
            “Uh huh.”  
  
            “It’ll be easier for you to put something inside if I’m relaxed and I find meditative breathing patterns work well enough for me. Add a little more lube and then put a finger in. Go slow. Let your finger get sucked in, don’t push.”  
  
            Doing as he was told, Jack warmed up lube between his fingers and placed his index finger at the entrance. With only a little bit of pressure, slowly Bittle’s ass accepted his finger deeper and deeper until Jack’s hand wouldn’t delve any further.  
  
            “Whoa,” Jack said, surprised. “I didn’t even need to push.”  
  
            Bittle had his nose scrunched at the new intrusion and took several deep breaths before responding. “The ass and colon are basically a vacuum. It should feel kinda weird to have something in there, but never hurt because your body will take anything at its own pace.”  
  
            Not knowing what to do, Jack figured it was time to move, but he knew he should probably ask. “You okay for me to move my finger?”  
  
            “Mmm you’re so good asking, sweetpea,” Bittle said, twisting and grinning at the blush he spotted on Jack’s face from the praise. “Yeah, go ahead. Try to find my prostate. The more I’m stimulated the easier it will be to get more in.”  
  
            Jack curled the tip of his finger into the front wall and dragged down, trying to find the hard mass. His first pass down, Jack brushed he edge of something solid and slid his finger back inside to try again. Angling his curled finger to the right this time, Jack pulled down until he felt it – both the entirety of the rough bump under his finger and Bittle bucking backwards, his body subconsciously trying to increase the pressure.  
  
            “More?” Jack asked.  
  
            “Lord, yes, just a little harder honey.”  
  
            Bittle moaned softly into the pillow as Jack rubbed circles around his prostate. “Tell me when I’m pressing hard enough,” Jack said, starting his circles soft and increasing pressure until Bittle was keening.  
  
            His breath turned to large gulps and Bittle muttered, “Oh my god, oh my god, just like that.”  
  
            As Jack continued, Bittle planted his hands on the bed to give himself leverage to push back and grind against the pillows. Soon, his arms gave out and flopped back on the bed before saying, “Alright, alright, we gotta stop before I cum.”  
  
            Bittle twisted onto his back and picked up the butt plug and dildo from the nightstand. “So I prefer using the plug,” he said, handing it to Jack. “The shape means it can essentially act as a dilator. Other people like using dildos because they’re more similarly shaped to a natural dick.”  
  
            He put the dildo into Jack’s other hand and arranged his hands to compare them side by side. “We can try the dildo on you if you’d like,” he explained, “but I really just wanted you to see the most common options.” With a smirk he added, “Whatever you choose it’s going to be more effective than just using your fingers.” He mimed a scissor motion in front of Jack’s face.  
  
            Jack laughed and threw the dildo next to him on the bed. “So, euh, how should I…?” he trailed off.  
  
            “Cover the plug in the silicone lube and slide it in gentle, like you did with your finger.” Bittle moved to lay down in his previous position, draped over the pillows. “Let my body suck it in, add more lube to the outside of the hole if it gets too dry.”  
  
            Jack followed the directions, watching for tension in Bittle’s body to know when to add more lube. When the plug was finally all the way inside, he gently pushed it in and out to get Bittle’s body used to the sensation. Jack knew he hit Bittle’s prostate when he gave a tiny yelp.  
  
            “Okay, now I want you in me,” Bittle said, when he finally had enough of Jack’s teasing. “Condom will help contain the mess.”  
  
            As Jack ripped open a condom and placed it on himself, Bittle climbed up onto his hands and knees. “Hun, you’re gonna need to put some lube on yourself and then stand on your knees.” Bittle crawled backwards, trying to gauge his height compared to Jack. He reached for two pillows to place under his own knees, so his ass was lined up with Jack’s cock. “I need you to line the tip up, and then let me do the work until I tell you. I’m going to lean back slowly at my own pace.”  
  
            Tentatively, Jack took the plug out and lined the tip of his cock with Bittle’s hole. The rim was still wide from the plug and easily took the first half inch.  
  
            It was hard to keep still, to keep himself from moving without using his arms to support himself. Rather than keep his arms hanging at his sides, Jack lightly placed them on Bittle’s hips, not to pull him closer but to massage over the skin of his hip bones.  
  
            Time felt like forever in his head, but Jack felt Bittle slide backwards to envelop his cock. It took self-control to not buck forward, to make some sort of motion like his body desperately wanted. Soon, though, Jack’s patience paid off and Bittle’s ass was flush against his hips. “Lord you feel good, hun,” Bittle said. “Fill me up so good.” He was laying it on kind of thick, but Jack appreciated Bittle humoring his apparently very obvious desire for praise. “Give me a sec to adjust and then you can move.”  
  
            Bittle’s deep breathing was the only sound in the room. It was nice, Jack thought, to feel trust another person in a moment of intimacy enough to be comfortable with silence.  
  
            “Go ahead, hun.”  
  
            At that direction, Jack started to pull out and push back in gently. Mindful of the resistance, he dribbled more lube on the condom before pushing in again once more. “You good?”  
  
            “Yeah.” With that, Bittle dropped down to his elbows, changing the angle. “You can go harder, I’m not gonna break.”  
  
            Picking a rhythm was always awkward. Jack was torn between trying to be consistent and adding some variation. He found himself thrusting to the tune of a Bon Jovi song switching up his speed and depth of thrust to the words in his head.  
  
            Bittle, he discovered, was not one to give up complete control. Soon, every time Jack pulled out, Bittle would clench his kegels increase the pressure on Jack’s dick.  
  
            “Crisse,” he hissed, while Bittle laughed. In retaliation, Jack leaned forward and caught himself on his hands, but not before pushing Bittle into the mattress.  
  
            “Are you really gonna start this?” Bittle asked, exasperated.  
  
            “It’s checking practice.” Jack’s expression was deadpan, but Bittle saw the small smirk on Jack’s lips when he turned around.  
  
            “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Bittle responded playfully, “Well in case you didn’t notice, Mr. Zimmermann we are not on the ice.”  
  
            “Doesn’t mean we can’t practice in bed.”  
  
            “Lord, you are such a hockey robot.” Those words had been used before by the media and other players with disdain in the past, but Bittle spoke so fondly Jack found he didn’t mind. “Scooch,” Bittle said, pushing back at Jack so they disconnected. He turned over to lay on his back, hips still elevated by the pillow. “If you’re a talker I want to be looking at ya.”  
  
             Jack pushed into Bittle again, now with the added benefit of seeing Bittle’s facial expressions. In this position he could also wrap a hand around Bittle’s cock, already wet with pre-cum, and pull it in time with his thrusts.  
  
            There was more laughing and chirping, and this was really nothing like Jack remembered his hookups with Kent. Or any girl he’d ever slept with for that matter either. The sound of their flesh slapping made Bittle giggle. When Bittle kicked at Jack’s knee in a faux wrestling move, they both toppled over and Jack almost fell off the bed. Jack was also pretty sure that weird airy sound was a fart from Bittle, but with Jack thrusting into his ass it’s not as if Bittle could help it.  
  
            Yes, it was awkward but it was fun, too.  
  
            Bittle came first, his cum spouting onto Jack’s stomach and his muscles clenched around Jack. Close himself, Jack had long since given up a rhythm and was chasing his orgasm with frantic thrusts. He was still moving, almost to the edge, by the time Bittle came down from his high and started to make a scrunched face.  
  
            Bittle let out a hiss – one of discomfort, not pleasure – so Jack stopped, and asked with concern, “Are you alright?”  
  
            “Just oversensitive. Can you pull out? I’ll get you with my hand or mouth.”  
  
            “Crisse, of course,” Jack said. He leaned back on his ankles, no longer inside Bittle. He rolled off the slick condom, difficult while still hard but at least there was almost nothing inside. “Your mouth?” he asked tentatively.  
  
            “Lay down, sweetpea.”  
  
            Bittle never did develop a tolerance to like the taste of latex and he grimaced at the leftover taste on the first lick of Jack’s head. Nonetheless, this blowjob was better than the last. Without the numbing gel, Bittle couldn’t take as much of Jack as before but he compensated by using his hand by the base. He remembered what Jack liked, too. He made sure to flick his tongue at the slit a few times and hummed as he worked his way up and down Jack.  
  
            It took less than a minute before Jack tapped at Bittle’s shoulder, signaling he was about to cum. He took his mouth off Jack, and used just his hand – now with the room to twist when he got to the tip – to bring Jack to completion.  
  
            They laid next to each other, Bittle burrowed into Jack’s side. When their cum started to dry, Bittle said, “I need to clean off in the shower.”  
  
            “Can I join you?”  
  
            “If you really want to, hun, but it’s not gonna be very sexy.”  
  
            The hot shower made an easier cleanup of the mess on their torsos than only a washcloth would have.  After they were no longer sticky, Bittle leaned up against the wall and Jack noticed his abs clenching.  
  
            “What are you doing?”  
  
            “Kegels. They help tighten everything up so nothing gets out.  
  
            “Oh. You’re supposed to do that?”  
  
            Before Bittle could respond, a low farting sound echoed in the shower.  
  
            “Sorry,” he said, blushing. “Muscles pushing the air out.”  
  
            “It’s fine. Sex can be gross.”  
  
            “The grossest,” Bittle agreed, smiling. He turned the water off and reached around the curtain to pick up a box of wet wipes that must have been left there earlier. After wiping himself off between the legs, he opened the shower curtain and lobbed the bunched up wipes in the trash.  
  
            They climbed out of the shower, and Bittle gave Jack a chaste kiss. “I really enjoyed checking practice. We should do it again sometime.”  
  
            Jack laughed.

  
***  


            Everyone turned to look at the noise when Jack’s helmet slipped to the ground as his hands gripped his hair. He couldn’t bear to look at his teammates, and kept his eyes glued to the ground as he sat in his stall.  
  
            “Is ok Zimmboni,” Tater said, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “We get next time.”  
  
            Jack nodded mutely and started changing to have something to do with his hands. It wouldn’t do for the media to see him having a breakdown in the locker room.  
  
            The presser was excruciating. Jack just wanted to go home, not answer questions about how it felt to lose in overtime. When the obnoxious reporter who traveled with the Canes asked if Jack felt responsible for the loss because he was in the penalty box on a tripping call while the game-winning goal was scored, it took all of his willpower to quiet the negative voice in his head and answer the question with a straight face.  
  
            Press obligations finished, Jack looked at the messages on his phone. The earlier texts from Bittle did nothing to change his somber mood.  
  
                        **Bittle** : Have time for checking practice after the game?  
  
                        **Bittle** : I think I could really use it ;)  
  
                        **Bittle** : Want to try out the swing?  
  
            Jack had responded in the affirmative, even using a smiley emoji in his response. But now, he didn’t think even Bittle’s chipper personality could cheer him up and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for sex.  
  
                        **Jack** : You probably know because you watched the game, but tonight’s not a good night.  
  
                        **Jack** : Sorry. Another time?  
  
            He didn’t wait for a text back, instead packed gear into his hockey bag and headed out to the car.  
  
            Jack’s mood didn’t improve at home. He laid on the couch and stared at his hockey bag, sitting by the door. It seemed to taunt him with what ifs. What if he hadn’t accidentally tripped Sebastian Aho while trying to get the puck to Marty? What if he had angled the shot a little more to the left in the third and avoided overtime altogether? What if, what if, what if….  
  
            Ruminations about the game came to a halt when the doorbell rang. A look through the peephole confirmed Bittle was standing outside with … a pie?  
  
            With a sigh, Jack opened the door prepared to tell Bittle he really wasn’t up for anything tonight when he saw Eric’s outfit: ratty pajama bottoms and a Zimmermann jersey.  
  
            Bittle met Jack’s gaze and held out the pie. “I know you’re not up for anything sexy, but on TV it looked like you could use pie.” Jack could identify it by smell as maple apple – his favorite. After few moments’ hesitation, Bittle added, “And maybe a friend?”  
  
            Did he really want that? Or did he want to be left alone? He didn’t really want to talk to anyone, but the thought of Bittle leaving twisted uncomfortably in his gut. “I’d like that.”  
  
            Smiling, Bittle walked into Jack’s kitchen and cut two generous slices of pie. Jack couldn’t find the words to start a conversation and stood awkwardly against the wall.  
  
            “Why don’t you find something on Netflix, hun? I’ll bring pie to the couch.”  
  
            Bittle didn’t chirp him for choosing a World War II documentary. He just handed Jack a plate and sat on the sofa, legs curled underneath him. As the movie played, Bittle laid his head on Jack’s shoulder and asked, “Is this ok?”  
  
            “Yeah.”  
  
            By the time the narrator started talking about the Battle of Okinawa, Jack noticed Bittle snoring lightly on his shoulder. Having already seen this documentary at least twice, Jack paid more attention to Bittle than to the screen. His face looked more serene asleep than awake, but it wasn’t any less cute.  
  
            It was nice, he thought, to have someone want to check up on him. If they hung out without having sex did that make them friends? Bittle did say it looked like Jack needed one.  
  
            He guessed that made Bittle his friend, but Bittle didn’t feel like a friend in the same way Lardo or Shitty did, sex aside. Tonight proved they could co-exist in comfortable silence, and even just his presence helped quiet Jack’s mind.  
  
            Finally, he noticed the TV was showing the Netflix home screen, documentary long since over. Bittle stirred as he reached for the remote to turn the TV off.  
  
            “Mmmm, what time is it?” Bittle asked, reaching out blindly towards his phone on the coffee table.  
  
            “After midnight.”  
  
            Bittle hummed but made no move to get up.  
  
            “Do you want to stay here tonight?”  
  
            “Hmm?”  
  
            “You’re too tired to walk home. Just stay with me tonight.”  
  
            “K.”  
  
             Jack snorted when Bittle made no effort to sit up and head to bed. Twisting around, he draped Bittle over his shoulder and walked towards the bedroom. Bittle laughed and weakly slapped at his back in protest. Jack walked them to the bathroom and set Bittle down gently. He reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a spare toothbrush. “Here.”  
  
            “Thanks hun.” They both brushed their teeth in the double sinks, Bittle half-heartedly, but given the hour Jack didn’t chirp him for it.  
  
            Walking into the bedroom, Jack asked, “Which side do you want?”  
  
            “I don’t care.”  
  
            “Euh, I don’t care either.”  
  
            “Are we going to go back and forth about this?”  
  
            “Yes.”  
  
            Bittle huffed exasperatedly and crawled onto the far side of the bed. Jack followed, keeping his body on his side of the invisible line in the middle of the bed. Should he cross it? Did Bittle want to spoon? They usually cuddled after sex, but they had just been friends tonight.  
  
            In hesitation, feeling like a teenager again, Jack reached a hand out towards Bittle, linking their pinkies together. Even in exhaustion, Bittle wrapped his hand around Jack’s and tugged lightly. Jack took that as an invitation and moved to spoon behind Eric, laying an arm over his waist. “Goodnight.”  
  
            “Good night, hun.”  
  
            Jack felt Bittle’s fingers curl around his, and he fell asleep with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

     Jack woke to his alarm, like usual. The sharp buzz was enough to rouse him without needing the snooze button, also like usual. What was not usual was the compact lump warming his bed, stealing half the covers, and cutting off circulation in his right arm.

     After turning the alarm off one-handed, Jack wiggled his arm out from under Bittle, who twitched in his sleep but remained otherwise dead to the world. Careful not to wake him, Jack changed into his jogging clothes, wrote a quick note to tell Bittle he was leaving, and slipped out of the apartment.

     Running was always an activity Jack enjoyed, but since his therapist mentioned exercise was good to clear his mind, he tried to add an extra mile or two after really hard days. The rhythmic pounding of his feet on the concrete as he ran to the park did soothe his mind.

     A good night’s sleep and evening of Bittle’s company had calmed the frustration Jack felt at his performance in the game the night before. The loss was still a sting, but having someone to come home to felt almost like a win. His mind shifted to Bittle as he ran. Jack had always found him attractive and enjoyed their interactions, but getting to know Bittle on a deeper level left Jack wanting more after last night. He wanted to cuddle and watch documentaries with Bittle after every game. He wanted to see hear Bittle cooking in his apartment all the time. There was so much more to know about Bittle and Jack wanted to learn every detail.

     ‘What’s stopping you, brah’? He heard Shitty’s voice in his head.

     Jack knew the answer. Himself. If he wanted to have more with Bittle – and crisse did he ever – he’d have to ask him out. The rest of his run home was spent pooling his confidence.

     Bittle was still sleeping in the quiet apartment when Jack returned. He looked through his dresser to find clean clothes and accidentally closed the drawer too loudly. Something stirred on the bed and Jack felt eyes watching him.

     “Hey,” he said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Thanks for staying last night.”

     “Mmmm, anytime hun,” Bittle hummed sleepily, eyes lidded. He reached out and pulled at Jack’s hand. “Come back to bed.”

     “I can’t. I’m all sweaty.”

     Bittle’s eyes opened again and he stared at Jack, pupils blown. “Good lord hun, you’re dressed like you just robbed a Burger King.”

     Jack looked down at himself, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

     “Nothing, hun,” Bittle said, patting Jack’s hand. “It’s very cute.”

     “Thanks,” Jack said, blushing. He took a deep breath and after a pause said, “So are we at the point where we can have a conversation and if it doesn’t go well pretend the conversation never happened?”

     Bittle blinked and shifted so he was sitting. “I guess it would depend on what the conversation was about. But I never want you to not tell me something. Whatever it is, I won’t be mad.”

     “Euh, I – umm… euh-”

     A hand fell on Jack’s and squeezed. “You can tell me anything, I promise.”

     Jack took another deep breath and steeled himself. “I…really liked having you here yesterday. Waking up this morning, too.” He paused and Bittle was still looking at him, nodding encouragingly. “I want that, too. Not just the sex. I guess, I’m trying to ask you out?”

     “Goodness, what a lead up. I’d love to go on a date with you sweetheart.”

     “Great! Euh…dinner? People do that, right?

     Bittle laughed. “Yes, people do dinner. Go out or want to cook together?”

     “We can cook together. That sounds nice. Friday?”

     “It’s a date.”

***

     “I’m so bad at this,” Jack grumbled, pulling another lattice piece off the pie.

     “Oh, stop! It looks great.”

     “It’s all lumpy!”

     “Quit with that face. It’s not cute. This is your first shot, and it all goes to the same place anyway. Will taste the same either way.”

     Jack let out a harrumph before trying again. The end result was better than his first attempt, but he was clearly still an amateur.

     Bittle took a pause in adding ingredients to the bolognaise sauce to squirm under Jack’s arm to look at the finished pie crust.

     “It’s lovely,” he said, turning to give Jack’s jawline a quick peck. “Glad to see you putting those soft hands to use for something other than hockey.”

     “I use these soft hands for plenty,” Jack said with a grin, reaching to grab Bittle’s ass.

     “No, no, no! There is no sex while I’m cooking!”

     “What about when you’re done cooking?”

     “We can’t hear the timer from the bedroom!”

     “Who said anything about the bedroom?”

     “Jack Laurent Zimmermann…are you suggesting we have sex in your kitchen? I know you don’t actually cook here, but I do make things here we actually eat.”

     “Euh, yeah?” he confirmed sheepishly.

     “You’re a menace.” After a pause Bittle sighed. “Let me finish putting the ingredients in the sauce. It’ll taste funny if I leave it halfway done.”

     Jack noticed the rush in Bittle’s cooking. He started to chop the carrots less uniform than usual, and he speed walked around the kitchen. Bittle was in his element and Jack loved to watch him. His subconscious was right, he probably had a competency kink.

     He only realized he had zoned out when Bittle was waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Anyone home?”

     “No, leave a message.”

     “Dork. Where do you keep your spices?”

     “Euh, I don’t know. My mom put them in one of the cabinets, I think.”

     Bittle started opening cabinets until he came to a halt by the sink. “Oh. My. Good. Lord.”

     “What?” Jack asked.

     “You have a shrine to protein powder in your kitchen!”

“Where else should it go?”

     “It is blasphemous to have this much powdered chocolate milk in my kitchen!”

     “Your kitchen?”

     Bittle blushed. “Well I’m certainly the only one who uses it for its intended purpose.”

     “Fair,” Jack conceded. “Protein is still a huge part of my diet. I have a shake every morning and a PB&J before every game.”

     “That is maybe the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

     Jack pushed Bittle into the counters, silencing the chirping with a chaste kiss. When the kiss moved into sensual territory, Bittle pushed at Jack’s chest. “Alright, alright, keep your pants on. I gotta put the spices in the sauce and then we can have checking practice before dinner.”

     When the top was on and sauce set to simmer, Bittle turned around. “Ok, we need to talk logistics. Pie still has to go in the oven, so we need to work around that. What did you have in mind?”

     “Euh, you sitting on the counter?”

     “Hun, I know we’re not serving company right now but we are currently cooking on these counters and I don’t have time for a thorough disinfecting.”

     “On the floor?”

     “Tile is not good for backs or knees.”

     “We never got to try out that swing? Can throw it over the bathroom door,” Jack suggested, pointing to the door just off the kitchen.

     “I like the way you think. You get the swing setup; I’ll get the pie in the oven.”

     Jack’s confidence with the box had increased tenfold when he set the swing up with much more skill than he once held the dildo. When Bittle commented on how easily Jack set up the swing, he was treated to seeing Jack blush.

     The whole purpose of the swing was to make otherwise impossible positions a reality so they didn’t have their list of favorite positions to rely on. Jack might have impressive leg muscles, but Bittle knew he couldn’t support himself on the door to both be prepped and fucked. He threw a towel over the back of the couch and leaned over as Jack used the plug and lube he still had in the bedroom. After proclaiming himself ready, Bittle pushed Jack against the door and set himself up for a vertical reverse cowgirl position.

     They were really getting into a rhythm when the oven timer went off.

     “Crisse,” Jack cursed sharply.

     Bittle braced his feet against the door and pushed, so he broke apart from Jack. “I’m a little tied up, you need to take the pie out.”

     Jack grumbled until Bittle waved his hand backwards and said insistently, “You can’t let your pie burn!”

     Crouching, Jack moved out from under Bittle and walked to the oven. Grabbing the pie with pot holders, he placed it on the counter. “Is it done?”

     “I can’t see it. You need to do the jiggle test.”

     Jack snorted. “Jiggle test?”

     Bittle rolled his eyes. “Head out of the gutter. Jiggle the pie and tell me if the center is moving or not.”

     Doing as commanded, Jack said, “The middle is moving. Put it back in?”

     “No, that means it’s done. The pie is still hot enough to cook the middle.”

     “So…we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming?”

***

     Lounging in bed later, Bittle asked, “So not that I didn’t enjoy tonight, but what was that all about?”

     “I guess I just wanted to see if there was more than just sex between us, you know?”

     “Do you think there is?”

     “Yeah, I do,” Jack said fondly. “When I’m with you the world doesn’t feel as big.”

     “Sweetheart, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

     “Well I’d like to, euh…I’ve been told that I should ‘lock this down’.”

     Bittle snorted. “Lock this down?”

     “Yeah? I guess I’m trying to say, will you be my boyfriend?”

     “So formal, sweetheart. Yes, I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

***

     Sitting in the Falconer’s Nook with the other older players, Jack peeked inside the brown paper bag Bittle snuck into his duffle. It was…a sandwich with a little note on it.

     “Homemade PBJ for all your protein needs. I’m so proud of you! <3 B”

     Seeing Jack smile, Marty asked, “What’s in the bag kid?”

     “Nothing,” Jack said quietly, offering the sandwich he had made himself to Marty as a bribe. Marty shared a glance with Thirdy and snorted.

     It certainly wasn’t nothing, but Jack wasn’t about to share that his recently official boyfriend was leaving him love notes on his pregame sandwiches.

     Jack thought he would be able to avoid suspicion from his teammates about being off the market, but that hope was short lived. Apparently the perks of dating Bittle extended to being the recipient of an endless supply of baked goods. Jack had left several pies, tins of cookies, and a few cakes in the Falconer’s Nook for public consumption. His reply of “a friend in my building” when asked about the source of all the to die for baked goods was only accepted for a couple weeks.

     “What the fuck is that?” Snowy shouted.

     “Euh, what?” Jack asked, when the goalie pointed at Jack with glee on his face.

     In lieu of responding, Snowy waddled across the locker room in full pads and tugged at the collar of Jack’s shirt to reveal the damning evidence.

     “Don’t pull that shit with me, you’ve got a fucking hickey on your fucking neck.”

     The locker room erupted into an uproar complete with shouting and cheering.

     When the chirping died down, Tater asked with a wink, “Did cute neighbor give you that Zimmboni?”

     Unfortunately, Marty was in earshot. Fortunately, he waited until after practice was over to confront Jack about it.

     “Look kid, you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Marty started, “but Gabby and I would love you to bring your lady friend over for dinner.”

     “I don’t have a lady friend,” he said, watching Marty for a reaction. “But I can ask my boyfriend if he’d feel comfortable going.”

     Marty’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, but he composed himself quickly. “You’re welcome to invite anyone you want. We just want to see you happy.”

     Jack nodded in thanks.

***

     “You’re bringing this up now?” Bittle asked, amusement in his voice.

     “I didn’t want to forget later.”

     “I don’t know if I’m insulted or not that you’re trying to make dinner plans with your teammates when I have a plug in you.”

     “I’m trying to think unsexy thoughts to make this last, ok?”

     Bittle stopped, taking his hand off the plug and letting Jack’s muscles hold it in place. “Normally I’m all for being chatty during sex but this is a big step for you and this conversation probably deserves our undivided attention.” He laid down on his side next to Jack. “Besides, your body could probably use a break.”

     “That’s probably a good idea,” Jack admitted. “Marty wants us to come to dinner with his family and Thirdy. It’d be a way for you to get to know some of the team.”

     “You want me to go?”

     “Euh, yeah?” Jack asked. He thought that was obvious. “If you’re comfortable meeting them, I’d like to start introducing you to the team as my boyfriend.”

     “I’d love to go with you.” Getting excited, he said, “Oh! I can make pies! What kind of pies do they like?”

     “Marty liked that lemon meringue you gave me, but I’ll ask about the others.”

     “Excellent! Oh, this is so exciting I’ll get to bake for new people.”

     “Bittle.”

     “Yes?”

     “I know I was the one who derailed the conversation, but I really need us to get back to the task at hand.”

     “Of course, sweetheart.”

     Given the multiple rounds of practice they had had with prepping Bittle, Jack was surprisingly calm about taking a turn being the bottom tonight. He decided to ask for the less intimidating plug rather than the dildo, and used the enema in the bathroom before Bittle arrived.

     Bittle was right, it did feel weird.

     They took their time in prep and Bittle arranged Jack into a comfortable first time position: on his right side with left leg towards his chest.

     “Alright hun, you’re gonna be in control here,” Bittle said as he slid on a condom. “I’m gonna put just the tip in and you slide backward at your own speed.”

     It took a couple minutes, but Jack pushed his ass backwards and used his hands to slide his body inch by inch closer to Bittle, who was staunchly staying in the same place. Jack moved until he was flush against Bittle and took deep breaths while getting accustomed to the sting.

     “You ready for me to move, sweetpea?”

     “Go ahead, I trust you.”

     Bittle did his best to wrap around Jack’s back despite his short stature while he pumped his hips. With several months’ knowledge of Jack’s body under his belt, Bittle knew that Jack liked to feel surrounded during sex. He also liked when Bittle nibbled on his collar bones. As his thrusts became deeper, Bittle used his arms to pull Jack back against his chest and pressed gentle bite marks on Jack’s spine.

     Only when Jack mumbled “Harder” did Bittle pick up the pace and start fucking into Jack with more gusto, angling to hit his prostate every second or third thrust to draw out the pleasure. The change left Jack communicating in quiet grunts until his limbs were noticeably shaking trying to find a grip on the bed. He was able to grunt out “I-I’m so so” before Bittle moved his hand from Jack’s chest to his dick and started spreading around the pre-cum like lube. The grip was drier than he would have typically liked, but Jack didn’t resist as Bittle pulled at his dick in time with fucking his ass. A few minutes later, Jack arched his back and came on Bittle’s hand.

     “Can I keep going, hun?” Bittle asked after Jack’s cries settled.

     “Go ahead,” he mumbled. “It’s a lot, but I can handle it.”

     Bittle came a few minutes later and wrapped himself around Jack like a koala. They laid quietly together for a few minutes before Bittle shouted, “Oh shoot!” as he pulled out of Jack and peeled off the condom.

     He tied the end and lobbed it into the trash next to the nightstand before cuddling Jack again.

     “Good?” he asked Jack, nuzzling at his neck.

     “Mmmm,” Jack hummed. “I can see why you like it. ‘M just sore.”

     “You like being on the top or bottom better?”

     “Still like top better, but I’d switch again.”

     “Well hun, we can certainly switch anytime you want,” Bittle said with a laugh. In response, Jack turned around to face Bittle and pulled him into a hug to go to sleep.

***

     Dating Jack wasn’t really any different than being friends with Jack. They still texted every night, spent free time together, and used their nights together to going through the box. Bittle still cooked for Jack when he had nights off class. Jack listened attentively to Eric complain about some guy named Chad in his program.

     Dating Jack wasn’t really any different than being friends with Jack until the next week. Bittle was writing his capstone project on the couch while Jack did stretches in front of the TV when the doorbell rang. Jack scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and started walking towards the door.

     The doorbell continued to ring as Jack headed towards the door, the bell sounding to the tune of...the Canadian national anthem? Jack looked through the peephole and sighed.

     “Do you want me to …?” Bittle asked, pointing towards Jack’s room.

     “Crisse, it’s fine. I just apologize in advance.”

     Without more warning, Jack opened the door to see Shitty Knight on the other side, holding a 6 pack in one hand and continuing to finish the bell anthem with the other.

     “My dude it’s been too long!” Shitty shouted, placing a wet kiss on Jack’s cheek. “I brought Rans and Holtzy to pull you out of your moose cave. I know you haven’t called me because you were embarrassed about that dude turning you down. But never fear! I bring forth good beer and even better company to soothe any sorrows of your soul.”

     “Euh, Shits?”

     “Yes you glorious motherfucker?”

     Jack smirked and stepped away from the door, giving Shitty an unobstructed view to the couch and his boyfriend sitting on it.

     “Jacques. Laurent. Zimmermann,” Shitty huffed. “You’ve been holding out on me.” Moving into the living room, he shouted, “Eric Bittle! Good to see you my friend. I hope this moose is keeping you satisfied.”

     “Dude, you are so red,” Holtzy laughed, punching Jack on the shoulder. Walking towards Eric he held out his hand to introduce himself. “Adam Birkholtz. Everyone calls me Holster. That’s my bro Ransom over there.” Rans, leaning against the wall, gave a small wave.

     Bittle stood up off the couch. “Eric Bittle, but you probably already knew that.” He shook Holster’s hand before asking, “Why do they call you Ransom and Holster?”

     “Hockey nicknames, brah,” Shitty butted in. “We all played hockey at Samwell. Everyone has a nickname except Jack here.” He pointed to Jack with a look of exasperation on his face. “Hey, you figure skated, right?” Before waiting for an answer Shitty steamrolled on. “You’re practically an honorary hockey member. We gotta get you a nickname. Bittle...Bittle….Bitter? Bitsy? Bitty? Bitty! I’m gonna call you Bitty.”

     At Bittle’s gobsmacked face, Ransom spoke up, “Just roll with it, man. It means he likes you.”

     “No, no worries. I’ve just never had a nickname before,” he said. “I like it.” He smiled softly and met Jack’s bright eyes before exclaiming, “Good lord we didn’t offer you anything to eat! Jack, I’ll be right back, I need to get the pie in my fridge. And then Holster, I need you to help me with my business plan.”

***

     “I’m sorry my friends ambushed us this afternoon,” Jack said, fingers running down his boyfriend’s spine as they lay in bed. “You really don’t have to let them call you Bitty if it makes you feel uncomfortable. I never liked my hockey nicknames.”

     Bittle snorted. “I know for a fact you secretly love when Tater calls you Zimmboni. Besides, I meant what I said. I kinda like it.”

     “Then that’s what I’ll call you.” Jack pressed a kiss against his temple, whispering, “Good night Bitty.”

     “G’night, Jack.”

  
***

     Dating Jack wasn’t really any different than being friends with Jack because meeting your significant other’s friends and co-workers was normal. Jack’s friends were maybe a little more overzealous and less aware of boundaries than normal; after all, one of them may have stalked Bitty’s address to send Jack a box of sex toys.

     Still, having eccentric friends was normal. Great for telling stories about even. Shitty had had Bitty in hysterics re-telling the antics of the Samwell hockey team.

     It was not normal to go to dinner at your boyfriend’s co-worker’s house and try to impress celebrity hockey players with pie. Bitty was in his kitchen leaning to pick a pie out of the oven, the ingredients for four more pie crusts strewn across the island as Jack let himself in. At the sound of the door, Gotham perked up and trotted over to lick Jack hello.

     “Hey, girl,” Jack cooed, petting the top of her head. “Hey, Bits.”

     Startled by Jack’s entrance, the apple pie slipped from Bitty’s hands and splattered on the ground.

     “Oh-I, haha! It just slipped out of my gloves didn’t it?” Eric laughed, mopping at the stain on his shirt with the oven mitts. “I’m, uh, gonna go change before this sets in.”

     With no further fanfare, Bitty disappeared into the bedroom and closed to door leaving Jack to wrangle Gotham away from the pie on the floor. After directing Gotham towards her dog bed, Jack put the pie chunks in the trash before using paper towels to wipe up the liquid filling spreading around the hardwood.

     Bitty didn’t just drop pies and he certainly wouldn’t have dropped a pie over Jack walking in the door. He wanted to go after Bitty, to comfort him and find out what was wrong but this was new territory. Bitty was always the one to comfort Jack, the one to offer his support when Jack was in a bad mood.

     But Bitty always did that when Jack was ready. Jack always had time to stew and process first, and Bitty deserved the same. Not wanting to disturb the other pie crusts on the island, Jack sat on the couch and turned the TV onto the football game to wait for Bitty to come out.

     Ten minutes later, Bitty came out wearing a new polo shirt and red rimmed eyes. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he said, curling up on the couch next to Jack.

     “You’re allowed to feel….whatever it is your feeling,” Jack said. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

     “Ugh, it’s stupid, just pretend it didn’t happen.”

     “If something is bothering you it clearly isn’t stupid. Come on, you always listen when I have a bad day. It’s time for me to return the favor.”

     Bitty sat silently for a few moments before saying, “I guess I’m just nervous to meet the team, ya know? What if they don’t like me?”

     “Bits, of course they’ll like you! Everyone likes you.”

     “They might like me now, but what if they don’t like me in the future? What if I’m no good for you and they blame me for sending your career down the drain? What if -”

     Jack interrupted by placing a hand on Bitty’s cheek. “I promise - that isn’t going to happen. You will never be responsible for what happens in my career. You make me happy and the guys see that. They’ll love you because I-” I love you, he thought.

     It was true, Jack thought. He loved Bitty. What he felt for Bitty was steady, but this was the first time he had labeled it. His relationship with Kent was passion and a rush of chemicals that was over before it really began. Bitty felt more stable. Jack could have a good life, a happy life, if Bitty wasn’t in it...but he didn’t want to. Jack’s life was better because he liked how Bitty made him laugh. He liked how Bitty made a night watching movies on the couch feel like the highest form of entertainment. He liked how it felt to put a smile on Bitty’s face with his bad jokes. His life was better with Bitty because Bitty made him want to live a life that wasn’t just about hockey. He wanted a life that they planned and worked for together.

     “Because you what?” Bitty asked, still sniffling.

     “They’ll love you because I love you,” Jack said confidently.

     Bitty went stiff in his arms. “What?” he asked, eyes wide.

     “I mean it,” Jack said emphatically. “I do love you, which is early but we have spent a lot of time together. But it’s like with hockey, I realized you mean a lot to me and I trust you more than anyone, and….my life is just better with you in it.”

     “Oh sweetheart,” Bitty said, giving Jack a wet kiss. “I love you, too. I’ve been loving you, it’s just so hard to hide that.”

     “We...we won’t have to hide forever,” Jack said, cautiously.

     “Huh?”

     “Euh, I’m not saying I want to come out now, but I’ve obviously proven that I can both be bi and play hockey,” Jack explained. “I wouldn’t want to have you hide for my whole life. Maybe, when the season is over and your capstone is done? We’re not going to have a lot of privacy and I’d like you to finish your education in peace.”

     “That...that sounds really nice.”

     “Yeah?”

     “Yeah, it does,” Bitty said, kissing Jack softly. The kiss deepened, and Jack shifted to press Bitty into the couch. They didn’t need to be at Marty’s for another couple hours, they had time for a quickie.

     Bitty seemed to disagree because soon after Jack’s hands started the journey under his shirt, Bitty pushed at Jack’s chest and shot off the couch.

     “Goodness, I have to finish the pies! I can’t show up empty handed.”

     “Bits, Marty said we don’t have to bring anything except ourselves.”

     “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, I have never shown up to a party empty handed,” Eric said in mock horror. “Besides,” he added, hands wringing, “they certainly can’t hate me if I bring pies.”

     “Certainly can’t hurt,” Jack said, stretching and standing up. “Want some help?”

     “Yes, please. There’s no way the love of my life isn’t going to be an expert sous baker.”

     Jack laughed and followed Eric into the kitchen. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

 

_Fin._

 


End file.
